. 


MISCELLANIES 


BY 


JAMES   B.  EVERHART. 


Frustra  laborat,  qui  omnibus  placer e  studet." 


WEST  CHESTER: 
EDWARD   F.   JAMES, 
1S6S. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

JAMES    B.   EVERHAK1  , 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and 
for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


JAMES,  Printer,  CLARK,  Binder, 

West  Chester,  Pa.  West  Chester,  Pa 


PS 


£93. 


TO   THE 
HOIST.    O  H -A.  I*  H,  E  S    Iwfll  I KT  E  H  , 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  "  HISTORY  OF  WYOMING,"  AC. 

Your  talents  and  virtues,  which  have  given  you 
LITERARY  REPUTATION,  POLITICAL  HONORS,  AND  UNIVERSAL  ESTEEM 
And  which  have  been  rendered  still  more  attractive  to  me,  by 

lOarly  .Associations, 
AND   YOUR   LONG,   UNBROKEN    FRIENDSHIP   WITH   MY   FATHER, 

Induce  the  liberty  I  take  in  dedicating  to  you  these  discursive  papers. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


t^»  >?  Q  *~j  r~  O 
.j_l.o.-coo 


PREFACE. 

The  following  pages,  containing  essays,  addresses 
and  personal  reminiscences  of  the  author,  could  hardly 
be  recommended  by  apologies  for  their  publication. 
It  may,  however,  be  suggested  that  if  the  articles  be 
without  interest,  they  are  generally  short — that  if  the 
subjects  be  not  new,  they  are  at  least  varied — that  if 
the  descriptions  be  imperfect,  they  are  not  fictitious — 
and  that  to  no  part  of  the  work  can  be  attributed  an 
unseemly  tendency,  or  an  unworthy  purpose. 

WEST  CHESTER,  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE' 

ABBOTSFORD  AND  MELROSE 37 

ALEXANDRIA  AND  CAIRO 148 

ALPS   TO   PISA 94 

ATHENS 215 

AYR 43 

AGRICULTURAL  ADDRESS — 1855 229 

BALLOONS 255 

BERLIN 2CO 

BEER  TO  TYRE 195 

BETHLEHEM 189 

BEDOUIN  AND  HIS   FRIENDS 164 

BROUGHAM,  LORD 40 

BULL  FIGHT  IN  MADRID i 128 

CHOATE,  RUFUS,  REMINISCENCE 1 

CHESTER,  SOMETIMES  CALLED  WEST  CHESTER,  (ENGLAND) 12 

CONSTANTINOPLE 207 

CRYSTAL  PALACE 289 

DESERT 158 

DOG  Boz 98 

EASTER  FESTIVAL 178 

ESCURIAL 126 

FLORENCE 226 

GOLDSMITH,   OLIVER 294 

GUIDES „ 246 

GERMAN  BARON,  A  VISIT  TO 163 

HOLLAND..  .  269 


II  CONTENTS. 

INDUSTRY,  MISAPPLIED 45 

IRELAND,  TRIP  IN 57 

JERUSALEM 167 

JOE 84 

JORDAN  ROBBERS 181 

JEWS 185 

LOCH  LOMOND  AND  LOCH  KATRINE 19 

LETTERS  OF   CREDIT 220 

MAIDEN  SPEECH 280 

NILE 161 

NAPOLEON,  Louis 285 

NAPLES 119 

ORATION,  22o  OF  FEBRUARY,  1848 186 

ORIENT 133 

PARIS 68 

POPE,  VISIT  TO  THE 116 

PASSPORTS,  CUSTOM  HOUSES  AND  QUARANTINE 199 

RACES  AT  ASCOT 14 

RHINE 275 

RIDE  ON  THE   PRAIRIES 90 

ROME    109 

SHAM  SMUGGLERS 62 

SECTS,  RELIGIOUS,  IN  JERUSALEM 192 

SlMPLON  PASS  OVER  THE  ALPS 88 

STORY,  JUDGE 72 

SULTAN  ABDUL  MEDJID 21 1 

SWITZERLAND 80 

VENICE 243 

VESUVIUS  AND  POMPEII 122 

VIENNA 250 

WINE  VAULTS  IN  LONDON 5 

WOMEN 21 


MISCELLANIES, 


REMINISCENCE  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE. 

One  sultry  fourth  of  July,  on  the  famous  field  of 
Concord,  a  huge  canvas  tent  shaded  ten  thousand  parti 
sans  of  that  gifted  leader,  who  was  destined  like  Moses, 
to  lead  his  hosts  to  the  land  he  could  not  reach  himself. 

Numerous  men  of  mark  sat  on  an  elevated  platform, 
eating  like  other  hungry  people ;  but  whose  organism, 
unlike  theirs,  would  transmute  the  food  by  a  sort  of 
alchemy,  into  thoughts  which  move  the  world. 

There  was  Webster,  universally  hailed  the  defender 
of  the  Constitution — with  the  fresh  honor  of  diplomatic 
triumph  on  his  massy  brows — with  the  consciousness  of 
matchless  eloquence  upon  his  scornful  lips — coming,  as 
it  were,  like  another  Achilles,  to  cast  dismay  upon  the 
foe,  by  his  majestic  presence. 

There  were  the  benevolent  features  and  bald  head  of 
Abbott  Lawrence — the  great  merchant,  and  the  fine 
gentleman — representing  the  aristocracy  of  commerce, 
the  American  patronage  of  learning,  and  the  princely 
hospitality  of  Boston. 

There  was  Horace  Greeley,  with  hair  and  clothes  as 
light  as  his  complexion  ;  whose  plain  demeanor,  homely 


2  MISCELLANIES. 

gestures,  and  drawling  elocution  marred  the  vast  infor 
mation  and  vigorous  style  of  the  editorial  tribune. 

There  was  another  person  whom  I  did  not  know.  He 
had  a  sad,  thoughtful  face,  half  poetical,  half  philosoph 
ical,  such  as  you  see  in  the  pictures  of  Lamartine.  He 
was  nervous.  He  ate  but  little.  He  pushed  his  fingers 
through  his  raven  curls.  His  dreamy  oriental  eyes 
glanced  from  earth  to  heaven.  Light  and  shade  flitted 
alternately  across  his  brow.  He  moved  about  on  his 
seat.  He  seemed  excited  with  deep  feeling.  So  you 
might  suppose  the  priestess  appeared  when  about  to 
utter  the  oracle  ;  or  the  prophet  on  the  point  of  pro 
claiming  the  vision. 

The  Chairman,  Mr.  Hoar,  addressed  him  : — "  I  trust 
our  senatorial  friend  will  allow  us  to  ask  him,  '  Watch 
man,  what  of  the  night  ? ' ' 

Tumultuous  applause  greeted  the  unknown  figure 
with  cheers  for  Choate,  as  he  rose  to  answer. 

A  tall  man,  he  lifted  himself  up  to  his  full  height, 
pale  and  trembling  with  emotion,  he  stretched  forth  his 
arm.  Amidst  a  silence  like  night,  with  a  look  radiant 
of  genius,  and  in  a  voice  eloquent  as  an  angel's,  he 
exclaimed:  "The  morning  cometh!  Thank  God!  the 
morning  cometh !"  An  exordium,  so  prompt  and  happy, 
thrilled  the  innumerable  crowd  like  magic.  Subdued 
murmurs  of  delight  escaped  them,  and  compelled  him 
to  pause.  As  he  proceeded  he  seemed  to  sway  them  by 
a  sort  of  fascination,  they  hung  with  parted  lips  upon 
his  accents,  captive  to  every  thought  he  uttered.  Such 
brilliant  power,  such  genial  sensibility,  dazzled  the 
imagination,  warmed  the  blood,  filled  the  soul.  His 
wit,  his  pathos,  his  sarcasm,  his  imagery,  were  all  eflfec- 


REMINISCENCE  OF  RUFUS  CHOATE.         3 

tive.  You  could  read  the  deep  indignation  on  all  faces, 
when  he  referred  to  the  Texas  land  jobbers  speculating 
in  war.  Men  shook  with  laughter,  when  in  an  irresis- 
table  manner,  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Folk's  name  not  having 
been  written  between  Orion  and  the  Pleiades,  and  the 
perplexity  of  his  friends  in  proving  his  opinions  by 
witnesses  and  affidavits.  They  listened  with  breathless 
admiration,  when  he  alluded  to  the  fitness  of  the  assem 
bly  then  and  there  ;  and  recalled  the  first  fierce  struggle 
and  the  generous  bloodshed  of  those  heroic  martyrs, 
whom  the  angels  in  chariots  of  fire  led  on  to  victory 
and  to  heaven.  And  few  were  unmoved  when,  turning 
from  the  past  and  the  dead,  he  pointed  to  the  Revolu 
tionary  veterans  near  him,  covered  with  the  honored 
marks  of  war  and  time,  ready  to  renew  their  patriotic 
vows,  and  consecrate  their  closing  days,  as  they  had 
their  best,  on  the  altar  of  their  country. 

In  conclusion  he  referred  in  complimentary  terms  to 
Greeley  for  his  advocacy  of  a  protective  tariff,  and  said 
of  it,  that  it  is  a  principle  native  to  the  soil,  and  as 
essential  as  the  ballot.  That  labor  is  the  true  founda 
tion  of  liberty — that  it  must  forge  the  national  wea 
pons  and  weave  the  national  colors.  That  while  liberty 
'sheds  its  hallowed  light  over  our  institutions,  labor 
lends  its  sturdy  arm  for  their  support  in  peace,  and  for 
their  defence  in  war. 

He  ceased — but  the  effect  of  his  oratory  was  perma 
nent.  No  one  could  forget  his  impressive  emphasis, 
which  varied  through  all  the  notes  of  tuneful  sounds — 
his  pictorial  words  which  seemed  to  make  thought  sensi 
ble  to  sight — his  impassioned  logic  which  glowed  through 
his  periods  with  the  energy  of  fire. 


4  MISCELLANIES. 

Sometimes  he  spoke  with  such  insinuating  force  that 
you  might  suppose  of  him  as  of  Pericles,  that  the  god 
dess  of  persuasion  dwelt  upon  his  lips.  And  sometimes 
he  displayed  as  much  vehemence  as  if  the  furies  had 
roused  him  to  ecstasy. 

Occasionally  his  speech  had  the  delicious  sweetness 
of  some  one  gentle  instrument  of  music.  And  occa 
sionally,  it  had  the  swelling  grandeur  and  crashing  thun 
ders  of  the  orchestra. 


WINE  VAULTS  IN  LONDON. 

An  English  official,  born  within  the  cockney  precincts 
of  Bowbells,  invited  me  and  others  to  St.  Catherine's 
docks.  We  boarded  one  of  the  small  steamers  which 
ply  between  the  bridges  for  a  penny  a  head.  We  glided 
down  the  yellow  Thames,  turbid  with  the  drainage  of 
the  city,  by  barges  and  skiffs,  palaces  and  churchet, 
warehouses  and  markets,  prisons  and  gardens. 

Arrived  at  the  docks,  we  looked  over  the  vast  basin?, 
in  which  one  hundred  and  fifty  ships  can  safely  ride. 
We  passed  through  the  lofty  buildings,  filled  with  im 
ports  from  all  quarters.  We  went  down  into  those 
vaulted  chambers,  which  occupy  acres  with  avenues  an.l 
alcoholic  fluids. 

A  journey  below  the  earth's  surface  seems  to  inspire 
a  feeling  akin  to  dread.  I  had  experienced  it  goin^ 
into  the  mines,  where  the  collier,  with  a  lamp  in  tho 
middle  of  his  forehead,  recalls  the  single  eye  of  Cyclop  3 
— and  as  I  entered  the  intricate  alleys  of  the  catacombs, 
where  the  early  Christians  hid  from  Roman  persecution, 
worshiped  and  buried — as  I  crossed  the  saltpetre 
threshold  of  the  mammoth  cave,  with  its  dark  river  and 
blind  fishes,  and  gorgeous  crystalizations — as  I  de 
scended  the  spiral  path  of  Joseph's  well  in  Cairo — as  I 
ventured  into  the  dusty  aisles  of  the  old  Egyptian  tomb?, 
marvelous  with  paintings — and  others  have  told  of  their 

(5) 


6  MISCELLANIES. 

distrust,  as  they  went  down  amongst  the  coral  colon 
nades,  which,  beneath  the  keels  of  navies,  form  the 
silent  cities  of  the  ocean. 

And  though  our  descent  was  as  easy  as  that  to 
Avernus,  and  our  errand  as  attractive  as  that  which 
tempted  Orpheus,  and  our  guide  as  skilful  as  the  shade 
that  directed  Dante — yet  the  palpable  darkness,  scarcely 
disturbed  by  our  single  candle,  shining  like  "a  good 
deed  in  a  naughty  world,"  and  the  cool  dank  atmosphere 
breathing  on  us,  still  conveyed  the  impression  of  mystery 
and  doubt.  Yet  down  we  wandered,  by  rows  of  hogs 
heads,  by  walls  of  bottles,  by  stacks  of  demijohns,  filled 
with  infinite  liquors.  They  were  gathered  from  different 
markets  and  distant  lands — from  beyond  the  oceans 
and  the  mountains  ;  from  the  pleasant  south ;  from  the 
icy  north ;  from  the  log  stills  of  the  prairies ;  from  the 
rude  presses  of  the  east.  There  were  the  treasures  of 
luxurious  climates  and  prodigal  soils — the  juices  of 
delicious  fruits  ;  the  essence  of  corn  and  cane  ;  the  flavor 
of  peaches,  juniper  and  grapes.  There  were  the  "  fiery 
Hollands,"  West  India  rum,  Bourbon  whiskey,  and  the 
true  Cogniac — elements  of  those  ingenious  mixtures, 
which,  under  the  names  of  "schnapps,"  "punch"  and 
"  smashers,"  are  so  prevalent  and  popular  above  ground. 

There  were  wines  of  various  vintages  and  brands — 
harsh  and  mellow,  sweet  and  tart,  light  and  heavy ; 
some  as  famous  as  the  old  Falernian  of  Horace,  as  the 
Samian  cup  of  Anacreon,  as  Homer's  Maronean. 

There  were  thousands  of  the  Hock  which  Byron  loved 
— tuns  of  that  fine  port  of  Tennyson,  "whose  father 


WINE   VAULTS   IN   LONDON.  7 

grape  grew  fat  on  Lusitanian  summers;"  pipes  of  that 
rare  Madeira  which  Holmes  says, 

"Shows  how  delusion  comes  ;" 

great  casks  of  what  Hunt  calls  "  glorious  claret ;"  un 
counted  baskets  of  Ainsworth's  "cold  champagne." 
Thus  surrounded,  we  were  persuaded  to  investigate 
those  luxuries,  which  could  make  the  hour  delicious  with 
song  and  laughter;  which  could  transfigure  the  dim 
walls  of  the  cellar  into  some  brilliant  cave  of  Arabian 
story,  or  the  green  vault  of  Dresden,  with  its  diamonds. 
So,  beneath  the  floating  drapery  of  cobwebs  and  the 
fluttering  wings  of  bats,  we  sat  down  amidst  the  trea 
sures  and  the  altars  of  the  rosy  god.  We  could  not 
then  forget  how  universal  is  his  rule,  how  potential  is 
the  sceptre  which  he  sways.  No  isothermal  lines,  no 
geographical  boundaries,  no  physical  prowess,  no  boasted 
ciilvizations  limit  his  power.  It  reaches  court  and  cot, 
town  and  district,  ship  and  strand,  trade  and  letters, 
misfortune  and  amusement.  Everywhere  the  genial 
fluid  fascinates  with  its  beauty  of  color,  its  beaded  mo 
tion,  its  thrilling  taste.  It  often  controls  more  than 
reason,  is  more  insinuating  than  flattery,  more  exciting 
than  ambition,  stronger  than  love,  and  sweeter  than  life. 
It  offers  to  re-animate  the  faculties  of  age,  to  resist 
the  assaults  of  disease,  to  wash  away,  like  Lethe,  the 
poignant  memory  of  disasters.  It  promises  a  spur  to 
genius,  invocation  to  charity,  to  uphold  the  energies  in 
the  harvest  and  in  the  battle,  to  heighten  the  joys  of 
the  feast  and  the  fireside.  It  pretends  to  quench  thirst, 
to  cool  the  blood,  to  expel  the  biting  frost,  to  give  peace 
to  conscience,  and  repose  to  care.  Did  it  not  make  Fal- 


8  MISCELLANIES. 

staff  witty,  and  Caliban  hospitable  ?  Did  it  not  sustain 
the  fancy  of  Sheridan,  the  logic  of  Pitt,  the  song  of 
Burns,  the  tragic  muse  of  JEschylus,  the  Latin  speech 
of  Sir  Thomas  More  ? 

It  has  been  from  immemorial  time  the  pledge  of  health, 
of  friendship  and  of  faith.  We  read  how  libations  of 
wine  pleased  the  nostrils  of  the  gods.  That  pagans 
called  it  the  nectar  of  heaven  ;  and  Christians,  the  tears 
of  Jesus.  That  it  was  the  subject  of  the  first  miracle, 
and  the  last  sacrament.  That  it  entered  into  the  mys 
teries  of  Eleusis  and  the  banquet  of  Plato.  That  Paul 
suggested  its  use  in  sickness,  and  Seneca,  in  vigor. 
That  on  account  of  it  a  Sultan  conquered  Cyprus. 
That  an  ancient  custom  adorned  the  drunkard  with  a 
crown  of  gold.  That  Cyrus  deemed  himself  fitter  than 
his  rival  for  a  king,  for  being  a  deeper  drinker. 

But  with  all  our  prepossessions  in  favor  of  the  gener 
ous  vine  juice  ;  notwithstanding  its  prescriptive  virtues 
and  popular  praises — when  the  various  specimens  of  it 
were  brought  us  for  experiment ;  when  we  saw  it  man 
tling  in  the  glass ;  arrayed  in  all  its  enchantments ; 
flashing  with  bright  hues  ;  lifting  itself  like  flames — we 
could  not  but  remember  the  graphic  image  of  Solomon, 
and  the  repentant  speech  of  Cassio.  We  thought  how 
it  may  have  sweetened  the  apple  which  cheated  Eve ! 
how  it  induced  the  shame  of  Noah,  and  the  crime  of  Lot ! 
how  it  blasted  the  life  of  Poe !  made  Swift  a  lunatic ! 
Savage  a  murderer  !  Person  a  brute!  How  it  disgusted 
Sparta  with  its  victims,  and  deposed  Cleomenes  from  his 
throne! 

But  when  we  tasted  it,  and  like  Philoxenus,  craved  a 
deeper  throat  to"  prolong  the  sensation !  when  we  en- 


WINE   VAULTS   IN   LONDON.  9 

joyed  its  delicious  contact  with  the  palate !  felt  its 
ravishing  warmth  permeating  through  the  system ! 
moving  the  blood  with  exhilarated  speed !  giving  new 
fancies  to  the  mind,  new  light  to  the  eye,  new  tones  to 
the  lips !  When  we  saw  its  influence  reflected  in  the 
expression  of  one  another ;  unfolding  our  charities ; 
warming  our  sympathies  ;  drawing  us  like  love  together 
— we,  too,  like  many  others,  began  to  deem  the  bowl  of 
Bacchus,  no  less  than  the  Pierian  spring,  a  well  of  in 
spiration. 

It  directed  our  imagination  to  the  upper  world.  We 
recalled  the  scenes  of  busy  life  above  us.  We  rang  our 
glasses  to  the  national  airs ;  we  perfumed  the  beverage 
with  endearing  sentiment ;  we  quaffed  to  the  glory  of 
free  rulers ;  to  the  genius  of  science ;  to  the  spirit  of 
the  century ;  to  the  empire  of  commerce ;  to  the  re 
public  of  letters ;  to  the  universal  beauty  of  women ; 
to  the  charms  of  the  distant  transatlantic.  The  mute 
old  arches  grew  resonant  with  merry  jests  and  volup 
tuous  idyls  ;  and  the  twilight  gloom  disappeared  before 
the  flashes  of  wit  and  the  sparkles  of  wine. 

What  to  us  were  the  cellars  of  Hortensius ;  the  table 
of  Apicius  ;  or  Macaulay's  "sunny  halves  of  peaches, 
and  brains  of  singing  birds  ?"  We  were  already  realiz 
ing  the  Elysium  of  the  senses.  We  already  seemed,  like 
the  Persian  Temschid,  to  read  in  the  wine  cup  the  mys 
teries  of  the  past  and  future. 

With  this  hour  of  subterranean  experience,  we  might 
no  longer  wonder  at  the  vast  power  which  lay  around 
us  in  repose.  There  was  sufficient  to  stimulate  and 
corrupt  the  age ;  to  fill  the  land  with  mischief  or  with 
mirth.  We  might  well  muse  upon  its  marvelous  mis- 


10  MISCELLANIES. 

sion  ;  its  destined  wide  spread  distribution  ;  its  various 
ultimate  consumers  !  What  an  essential  feature  it  would 
make  in  public  and  private  assemblies  !  How  conspicu 
ous  it  would  be  in  historical  commemorations ;  in  the 
inauguration  of  enterprises  ;  in  the  opening  of  railroads ; 
in  the  launching  of  vessels  ;  on  the  birth  days  of  bene 
factors  ;  on  the  coronation  of  kings ;  on  the  election  of 
Presidents !  How  it  wonld  contribute  to  the  attractive 
ceremonies  of  marriage ;  to  the  funereal  vigils  of  the 
wake  ;  to  the  fantastic  movements  of  the  dance  ;  to  the 
boisterous  pomp  of  parades  ! 

How  it  would  magnify  and  diminish  individual  for 
tunes  !  What  acres  and  mansions  it  would  accumulate 
and  sweep  away !  It  would  require  besides  vast  labor 
to  fashion  wood,  clay  and  metal  to  receive  it  thereafter. 
To  make  vessels  for  it,  men  would  be  cutting  the  cedars 
of  Canada ;  preparing  the  tin  of  Malacca ;  smelting 
the  ores  of  Schuylkill ;  washing  in  the  mines  of  Sacra 
mento  ;  diving  for  the  pearls  of  India  ;  blowing  glass  in 
Venice  ;  tempering  the  earth  of  Staffordshire  ;  carving 
the  alabaster  of  Egypt ;  moulding  the  gutta  percha  of 
Singapore ;  gilding  the  porcelain  of  Sevres.  In  such 
numerous  fabrics,  it  would  be  dealt  out  in  various  quan 
tities  by  myriads  of  characters,  from  custom,  for  favor 
and  for  money.  Thus  scattered  abroad,  it  would  be 
sought  as  an  antidote  for  pain  ;  it  would  be  denounced 
as  a  fountain  of  woe  ;  it  would  be  bowed  to  as  a  divinity ; 
it  would  be  fought  against  as  a  devil.  It  would  seduce 
men  to  folly,  poverty,  crime  and  madness.  It  would 
fill  streets  and  homes,  day  and  night,  with  oaths  and 
blows,  and  shame.  It  would  supply  courts  with  con 
tests;  jails  with  convicts;  hospitals  with  patients; 


WINE    VAULTS    IN    LONDON.  11 

ccmetries  with  graves.     It  would  give  abundant  work 
to  philanthropist  and  Christian. 

And  though  the  times  are  better  than  they  were,  when 
the  greatest  drinker  was  the  greatest  man;  when  the 
host  never  left  his  friend  until  he  saw  him  under  the 
table;  when  inscriptions  on  tankards  ordered  one  "  not 
to  leave  a  drop,"  and  to  "drink  till  he  could  not  stir  a 
foot;"  when  drinking  guilds  were  all  in  vogue;  when 
parsons  kept  the  best  wine  ;  when  the  wassail  bowl  was 
the  symbol  of  hospitality.  Yet  still  in  spite  of  ex 
perience  and  of  lectures;  in  spite  of  societies,  of 
churches,  of  newspapers,  of  schoolmasters;  in  spite  of 
laws  and  politics — king  alcohol  still  holds  his  own,  and 
stands  his  ground,  and  will  not  die. 


CHESTER,  SOMETIMES  CALLED  WEST  CHES 
TER,  (ENGLAND). 

The  country  from  Liverpool  to  this  place  is  diversi 
fied  by  hills  and  plains,  by  cottages  and  trees,  and 
streams.  The  fields  are  inclosed  by  hedges,  and  the 
soil  is  rich  in  grain.  The  rail  road  banks  are  gay  with 
clover  and  garden  flowers. 

Chester  was  called  Cestria  by  the  Latins,  from  cas- 
tra  a  camp,  once  located  here.  It  exhibits  an  odd 
arrangement  of  brick  and  mortar,  and  a  deal  of  age, 
and  mold,  and  dilapidation.  It  contains  a  great  variety 
of  ruins.  They  date  its  origin  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  after  the  deluge,  and  claim  a  grandson  of  Noah 
for  its  founder.  They  aver  that  a  skeleton,  nine  feet 
in  length  was  dug  out  of  one  of  its  streets,  which  con 
nects  its  history  with  those  days  when  there  were  giants. 
It  was  doubtless  a  town  when  London  was  a  wood  or 
morass,  and  before  a  Roman  keel  touched  the  channel. 
The  twentieth  legion  of  the  Empire  quartered  here  after 
their  last  battle  with  Boadicea.  They  encompassed  it 
with  a  wall.  They  constructed  elaborate  roads  through 
it.  They  built  altars  within  it  to  their  Gods.  The 
remains  of  their  baths,  the  weapons  of  gladiators, 
statues  of  divinities,  and  the  coins  of  Emperors,  taken 
from  the  soil,  are  still  to  be  seen.  After  them  the  Danes, 
Welsh,  Saxons,  and  Britons,  contended  with  alternate 
success  for  the  city.  On  the  river  Dee  which  flows 
around  it,  Edgar  was  once  rowed  by  eight  conquered 
(12) 


CHESTER — ENGLAND.  13 

Kings.  Close  by,  Harold,  after  the  battle  of  Hast 
ings,  closed  his  life  in  a  hermit's  cell.  Hither  the  first 
William  came  flushed  with  triumph ;  and  the  second 
Henry,  after  his  defeat  by  the  Welsh,  to  receive  the 
homage  of  Malcolm  of  Scotland.  In  the  Castle,  the 
Welsh  made  a  final  submission  to  Edward.  From  the 
tower  Charles  the  first  beheld  his  defeat  by  Cromwell's 
soldiery  ;  and  the  building,  adorned  with  a  curious  stone 
mantel,  is  still  shown  where  his  son  frolicked  during 
the  Protectorate.  The  city  was  loyal,  and  the  cannon 
of  the  Roundheads  thundered  for  half  a  year  against  its 
walls. 

The  streets  are  rectangular,  and  the  old  houses  pro 
ject  one  story  over  another.  The  Cathedral  is  of  fine 
proportions,  seven  hundred  years  old.  It  is  remarkable 
for  the  elaborate  ornaments  on  the  Bishop's  throne,  the 
choir,  and  the  Gothic  screen,  and  the  bones  and  effigy 
of  the  first  Earl  of  Chester. 

St.  John's  church  is  still  older,  built,  they  say,  where 
Ethelred  saw  a  white  hind.  Within  it  is  a  sort  of  gal 
lery  over  the  pews,  where  the  nuns,  unseen,  attended 
worship. 

^From  the  new  tower,  built  in  the  15th  century,  and 
one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  high,  the  view  is  grand. 
There  are  the  rivers  winding  around  the  walls,  the 
antique  city,  Beeston  castle,  the  sweeping  level  of  green 
grass,  the  far  off  hills  of  Wales,  and  the  illimitable 
expanse  of  the  sea. 

2 


THE  RACES  AT  ASCOT. 

It  was  a  pleasant  holiday  when  I  saw  the  horses  run 
at  Ascot.  Other  courses  perhaps  may  attract  as  dense 
a  crowd,  but  this  one  enjoys  the  presence  of  the  Court. 
Long  trains  of  rail  cars  ran  full.  All  curious  convey 
ances  which  extemporaneous  necessity  contrives,  filled 
the  roads.  There  were  carts  and  gigs  of  different  styles 
and  ages,  faded  and  out  of  fashion ;  huge  baskets,  rough 
boxes,  and  sections  of  hogheads  were  mounted  on 
wheels  more  or  less  elliptical.  There  were  large  horses 
from  the  dray  and  plough,  under  the  saddle  and  under 
second  hand  clothes — diminutive  donkeys  almost  con 
cealed  by  their  riders — fancy  beasts,  variously  crippled 
and  colored,  which  had  passed  their  prime  and  like 
some  party  hacks  survived  their  friends.  There  were 
parties  on  foot  picking  their  way  along  paths  and  over 
stiles — equipages  brilliant  with  liveries  and  heraldry — 
the  royal  carriages,  each  drawn  by  four  greys,  with 
postillions  and  mounted  grooms — all  hastening  forward 
amidst  dust,  noise  and  enthusiasm  to  the  field  of  sport. 

The  vast  plain  of  green  grass  was  marked  by  a  course 
of  two  miles  in  circuit.  Outside  of  it,  near  the  winning 
post,  were  the  long  high  galleries  with  seats  for  hire, 
and  a  decorated  balcony  for  Queen  Victoria.  Acres 
were  crowded  with  living  masses.  The  hum  of  conver 
sation,  the  loud  oaths  of  the  excited  fancy  men,  the 

(14) 


THE   RACES   AT   ASCOT.  15 

hoarse  cries  of  hucksters,  the  constant  peals  of  laugh 
ter  from  groups  of  jovial  friends,  the  frequent  strains 
of  military  music,  the  occasional  yelp  of  injured  dogs, 
the  neighing  of  numerous  horses,  the  rumble  of  infinite 
wagons,  sounded  for  miles  like  the  roar  of  the  ocean. 

The  throng  of  foreigners  and  English  comprised  all 
classes.  The  cities  and  the  counties — the  factories, 
the  fields,  the  counters,  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  the  press, 
the  gaols,  the  palaces,  the  fighting  rings,  were  repre 
sented. 

Gamblers  were  tempting  the  unwary  with  illusive  cards 
and  little  j okers.  Thieves  were  industriously  abstracting 
coins  and  watches.  Showmen  amused  gaping  crowds  with 
Punch  and  Judy.  Bogus  American  serenaders  were  sing 
ing  Dandy  Jim  of  Caroline.  Fair  country  girls  and  high 
born  ladies  softened  the  coarse  aspect  of  the  scene  by 
their  presence  and  their  charms.  Lords  and  diplo 
matists  mingled  with  the  promiscuous  multitude  and 
staked  large  sums  upon  the  success  of  favorite  nags. 
The  Queen,  a  small  woman,  with  sharp  features  and 
half  closed  lips,  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  a 
foreign  prince,  her  children,  and  her  handsome  consort, 
gave  a  sort  of  official  encouragement  and  national 
character  to  the  day.  It  was  a  royal  custom  in  the 
time  of  Pindar  to  patronize  the  race.  The  steeds  of 
kings  won  prizes  in  the  ancient  circus.  English  so 
vereigns  from  the  reign  of  James  the  First,  and  per 
haps  before,  established  rules,  appointed  courses,  sanc 
tioned  laws,  and  entered  horses  to  maintain  the  credit 
of  the  turf.  Whatever  tends  to  improve  the  stock,  the 
speed  and  endurance  of  the  most  useful  animal  has 
been  deemed  worthy  of  the  countenance  of  govern- 


16  MISCELLANIES. 

ments.  The  Ascot  premium  was  an  exquisitely  finished 
silver  cup,  ornamented  with  appropriate  devices  and 
figures.  More  than  a  dozen  horses  appeared  in  the  con 
test  for  it.  Although  evidently  eager  for  the  start,  they 
showed  no  unruly  restlessness,  and  neither  champed  the 
bit  nor  pranced  ambitiously  about.  They  walked  with 
an  easy  swinging  gait.  They  were  thorough  bred. 
Others  for  the  chase,  for  the  charge,  for  draught,  may 
be  alloyed  with  baser  stock,  but  the  racer  is  the  patri 
cian  of  his  kind.  His  lineage  is  carefully  recorded, 
and  ascends  higher  than  that  of  half  the  aristocracy. 
His  ancestors  won  wagers  before  the  House  of  Hanover 
reached  the  throne.  His  blood  was  unmixed  before, 
perhaps,  the  Commonwealth  perished  with  Cromwell — 
before  the  monarchy  expired  with  Charles.  Through 
revolutions  and  civil  wars,  in  the  midst  of  invasions  and 
expeditions,  his  line  has  been  preserved  for  centuries, 
untainted  and  unbroken.  His  derivation  is  traced  to 
that  country  where  the  horse  is  his  master's  friend  and 
fortune — where  he  seems  to  serve  from  choice,  and  to  be 
swayed  by  love — where  he  is  never  degraded  by  labor 
— where  he  is  trained  for  pursuit  and  flight  on  the  un 
limited  sands,  and  in  the  wild  air,  of  the  desert — where 
he  is  compared  to  the  eagle  in  swiftness,  and  to  the 
storm  in  terror.  The  present  stock  owes  its  parentage 
to  the  Godolphin  Arabian,  to  the  Darley  Arabian,  or  to 
the  White  Turk,  which  last  was  imported  in  the  time  of 
James. 

Those  on  the  course  seemed  models  of  breed  and 
training.  They  were  mostly  of  a  chestnut  color,  of 
large  size,  with  high  withers,  small  ears,  flat  legs,  long 
bodies,  and  long  tails  which  were  cut  squarely  off  at 


THE    RACES   AT   ASCOT.  17 

the  ends.  They  had  no  superfluous  flesh,  their  muscles 
were  hard  and  as  elastic  as  steel,  their  soft  hairy  sides 
shimmered  like  velvet,  and  their  large  full  eyes  were 
bright  as  light  itself.  The  jockeys  were  dressed  in 
caps,  boots  and  breeches,  and  distinguished  from  one 
another  by  jackets  of  various  hues. 

Amidst  some  confusion,  the  Judges  take  the  stand, 
the  track  is  cleared,  the  signal  is  given,  and  the  whole 
troop  leap  to  the  exhilarating  task. 

They  seem  to  fly  as  they  recede,  but  turning  the  dis 
tant  curve,  their  long  springing  motion  looks  like  an 
easy  gallop. 

How  gloriously  they  move  along  the  surface,  with 
their  brilliant  colored  riders,  and  their  streaming  tails. 

Though  they  started  together,  they  soon  scatter ; 
some  fall  far  in  the  rear,  others  droop  near  the  lead, 
and  only  two  or  three  show  any  hope  in  the  contest. 
Shouts  go  up  at  intervals,  when  stretching  forth  their 
long  necks  as  if  they  would  devour  the  distance,  they 
press  or  pass  one  another.  The  dust  rises  like  a  cloud 
behind  them.  Money  is  transferred  from  hand  to  hand 
as  the  chances  waver.  The  rapid  hoofs  resound  loudly 
over  the  field.  They  approach  the  goal  for  the  last  time. 
The  jockeys  firm  upon  the  seat,  bend  over  the  loose 
reins,  cheer  with  the  voice,  urge  with  the  whip,  and  strike 
the  spurs  into  the  steaming  flanks.  The  struggle  grows 
critical, — the  interest  becomes  intense, — people  stand 
up  on  the  benches,  they  gaze  beneath  the  shade  of  their 
hands, — thousand  of  glasses  are  pointed, — exclamations 
are  heard  on  all  sides.  The  green  jacket  is  in  advance 
— the  red  is  upon  his  quarter — the  black  suddenly  comes 
up.  He  shows  at  once  victorious  metal — his  eye  balls 


18  MISCELLANIES. 

seem  ready  to  burst  with  rage — his  red  nostrils  smoke 
like  fires — his  body  appears  now  to  kiss  the  ground — 
his  legs  seem  now  borne  upon  wings — the  air  roars  as 
he  rushes  through  it — he  moves  twenty  feet  at  a  bound 
— he  passes  the  second  horse — he  is  by  the  side  of  the 
foremost — he  gains  on  him — he  is  on  his  shoulder — he 
is  even — he  is  ahead — he  is  beyond  the  winning  post — 
the  flags  fall — the  race  is  won. 

Amidst  the  wildest  commotion  the  track  is  filled,  the 
winner  is  surrounded — he  bears  himself  proudly — he 
seems  to  rejoice  in  his  triumph.  His  steps,  his  looks 
are  watched  and  admired.  He  is  regarded  with  a  kind 
of  reverence.  He  is  to  the  course  what  the  hero  is  to 
the  field.  Speed  is  the  horse's  virtue.  No  wonder  that 
its  exhibition  is  always  popular,  that  it  attracts  all 
characters,  that  states  foster  it,  that  it  was  a  pastime  of 
antiquity,  that  it  inspired  the  epic  bards. 


LOCH  LOMOND  AND  LOCH  KATRINE. 

We  glided  with  the  gentle  waters  of  the  Leven,  on 
whose  bank  Smollet  was  born,  into  Loch  Lomond,  the 
largest  lake  in  Scotland.  It  is  dotted  with  islands  of 
much  natural  beauty,  and  much  legendary  interest.  One 
contains  the  fierce  Macgregors'  graves.  Another  gave 
the  war  cry  to  the  Buchanans.  Another  is  marked  by 
a  cave,  or  the  ruins  of  some  grim  tower  or  castle. 
Nearly  all  are  wooded,  elevated  like  piles  of  rocks,  and 
haunted  by  rabbits,  deer  and  goblins,  and  one,  they  say, 
by  lunatics.  The  loch  winds  amongst  them  like  streams, 
often  narrow,  always  deep,  and  so  sheltered,  that  the 
surface  hardly  knows  a  ripple  or  a  wave.  Rough, 
huge,  and  lofty,  Ben  Lomond  and  Ben  Voirlich  rise  on 
opposite  sides.  At  the  water's  edge  you  see  the  en 
trance  to  Rob  Roy's  cave,  one  hundred  feet  in  depth. 
The  main  shores  are  red  with  heather-bells,  or  bright 
with  streamlets,  which  flutter  like  ribbons  on  the  dis 
tant  crags. 

We  passed  for  a  few  miles  on  foot  by  a  devious  way, 
between  tall  ridges,  by  cot  and  moor,  and  moss,  by  burn 
and  bog,  till  we  beheld  Loch  Katrine  below  us,  brilliant 
as  a  mirror.  We  sailed  it  from  end  to  end.  The  chan 
nel  was  circuitous,  the  hills  seemed  to  close  up  on  our 
path  and  in  our  wake.  Birch  trees  covered  the  steep 
slopes  with  their  green  and  silver,  the  soaring  mountain 
tops  blazed  like  altars  in  the  setting  sun.  The  inlets 

(19) 


20  MISCELLANIES. 

fringed  with  grass  and  boughs,  the  pebbly  beach,  the 
varying  light  of  sky  and  shores,  and  the  dancing 
shadows  on  the  waters,  made 

"  It  so  wondrous  wild,  the  whole  might  seem 
The  scenery  of  a  fairy  dream." 

Its  very  solitude  inspired  a  belief  in  unseen  creatures. 
Its  silence  seemed  like  the  pauses  in  music.  The  next 
instant  some  magic  might  transform  the  sylvan  picture, 
or  fill  the  air  with  the  swell  of  mysterious  voices,  or  the 
hum  of  elfin  wings.  But  Scott's  wizard  genius  has 
added  to  the  charms  of  this  delicious  region.  We  gaze 
with  new  interest  on  the  haunts  of  chivalry  and  love. 
In  yonder  glen  the  huntsman  left  his  "matchless  steed  " 
to  "Highland  eagles."  Beneath  the  branching  oaks 
and  weeping  willows  of  that  oval  island,  floated  the 
shallop  of  fair  Ellen.  There  is  the  beach,  where  with 
his  minstrel  harp,  reclined  the  white-haired  Allan-bane. 

There  by  the  glade,  the  smitten  stranger  lingered  for 
the  maiden's  'mute  farewell.' 

There  is  Benvenue,  whence  sped  the  fiery  cross  rous 
ing  from  meadow,  bier  and  altar,  Clan  Alpine  for  the 
battle. 

Thence  onward  is  the  Goblin's  cave,  the  Trossachs 
glen,  Loch  Achray,  the  mustering  place  of  Lanrick 
mead — and    Coilantogle   ford,  where   guide  and  guest 
sealed  in  blood  their  courtesies  and  courage — 
"  Then  foot,  and  eye,  and  point,  opposed 
In  dubious  strife  they  darkly  closed." 


WOMEN. 

The  imagination  has  been  exhausted  in  describing 
woman.  She  has  been  compared  to  a  fair  vision,  to  a 
lovely  flower,  to  a  celestial  spirit.  She  has  been  called 
the  paragon  of  creatures,  the  personification  of  frailty 
and  of  fury.  She  has  been  named  a  belligerent  biped 
trebly  armed  with  tears,  tongue  and  nails  ;  or  a  suppli 
ant  being,  made  to  prepare  the  meals  and  mend  the 
clothes  of  man.  But  she  is  rather  the  better,  if  not 
the  wiser  half  of  human  nature,  and  an  exquisite  part 
ner 

"in  the  ceaseless,  changeless,  hopeless  round 

Of  weariness,  and  heartlessness,  and  woe,  and  vanity,  that  make  up 
man's  mortal  journey." 

From  the  first,  when  it  was  thought  not  good  for  man 
to  be  alone,  and  from  his  side,  nearest  the  heart,  was 
formed  a  helpmate  meet  for  him — from  then  till  now, 
through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  ages,  places  and  opinion, 
women  have  consummately  answered  the  object  of  their 
original.  Their  kindness  and  their  charms  have  been 
the  unfailing  fountain  of  family  felicity,  the  secret  of 
social  attachment,  refinement  and  progress.  They  have 
subdued  the  hard  nature,  the  fierce  passions,  and  the 
rude  manners  of  mankind.  They  have  elicited  the 
softer  feelings,  the  quicker  sensibilities;  fostered  those 
nicer  perceptions,  and  finer  faculties,  and  purer  senti 
ments,  which  appreciate  and  constitute  the  harmonies 

(21) 


22  MISCELLANIES. 

of  the  soul.  Whatever  is  delicate  in  expression  or 
thought,  or  gentle  in  spirit,  or  graceful  in  address,  or 
amiable  in  intercourse;  whatever  soothes,  consoles  or 
cheers ;  stimulates  the  desire  of  excellence,  invites  to 
offices  of  charity,  or  excites  the  better  affections,  is 
founded  in  female  influence  or  cherished  by  it.  That 
influence  gives  rise  or  exercise  to  every  elegant  art — to 
that  which  ravishes  the  ear  with  the  discourse  of  sweet 
sounds,  or  which  enchants  the  fancy  with  ideas  of  the 
beautiful,  with  the  blandishments  of  pleasant  visions  or 
embodied  forms,  or  which  crowd  the  heart  with  emo 
tions  of  delight  and  love.  It  is  she  who  inspires  the 
dreams  of  poetry,  and  the  pages  of  romance  ;  and  flings 
fascination  over  all  the  field  of  letters,  and  every  de 
partment  of  taste.  What  story  ever  moved,  or  pleased, 
or  persuaded,  or  taught — what  masterpiece  of  imagina 
tive  composition  has  genius  ever  conceived,  or  moulded, 
or  portrayed,  in  which  she  was  not  the  source  of  its 
merit,  or  the  means  of  its  praise !  In  her  sex  were  per 
sonified  the  muses,  and  those  graces  and  virtues,  which 
still  wait  upon  her  steps  and  bless  her  presence.  On 
her  was  imposed  the  mission  to  watch  the  holy  flame  of 
Vesta,  to  utter  the  oracles  of  Apollo,  to  dictate  the 
laws  of  Numa,  to  communicate  the  Sibyl's  leaves  to 
Tarquin.  In  every  leaf  of  history  are  her  living 
records.  It  is  her  noiseless,  social  prevailing  influence 
which  has  created  an  elegant  standard  of  approbation. 
She  has  also  mingled  in  the  struggle  for  literary  fame, 
and  been  distinguished  amongst  the  gifted  and  the 
learned.  Her  authorship  has  not  wanted  either  happy 
style  or  useful  purpose.  She  has  accurately  delineated 
the  lively  features  of  scenes,  passions  and  lives.  Her 


WOMEN.  23 

efforts  have  tended  to  meliorate;  blended  wholesome 
principle  with  entertainment;  rarely  pandered  to  com 
mon  prejudice,  or  served  the  corruptions  of  the  day. 
She  has  been  the  advocate  of  better  things,  of  human 
advancement ;  holding  forth  inducements  to  consistency 
in  morals  or  in  faith;  decking  truth  with  flowers ; 
making  goodness  to  appear  bold,  and  beautiful,  and  to 
be  desired;  entwining  the  scales  of  justice  with  the 
wreath  of  mercy;  opening  the  door  of  relief  to  the 
voice  of  distress ;  speaking  encouragement  to  the  deso 
late  ;  humility  to  the  proud,  and  peace  to  those  who  are 
at  strife. 

We  hardly  find  in  the  catalogue  of  writers,  one  of 
purer  aspirations,  who  displayed  livelier  pictures  of  hu 
manity,  with  more  of  good  and  less  of  evil,  than  she 
who  sang  the  "Songs  of  Woman,"  of  "Home,"  of 
"The  Affections,"  of  "The  Hebrew  Mother,"  and 
"The  better  Land."  There  was  also  Miss  Landon 
who  shed  new  interest  on  scriptural  stories,  and  the  gay 
period  of  tournaments,  of  errant  knights  and  minstrels. 
And  those  lovely  sisters  who  strung  their  harps  on  the 
banks  of  the  Saranack,  and  perished  just  as  the  world 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  angel  purity  and  beauty  of 
their  lives.  And  Hannah  Moore,  whose  ingenious  logic 
combatted  in  England  the  infidel  sophistry  of  France. 
And  Miss  Burney,  whose  productions  first  gave  a  sound 
morality  to  fictions  in  prose,  and  enchanted  the  great 
orator  and  the  great  critic  of  her  age.  There  too  are 
the  delicious  odes  of  Sappho,  to  whose  memory  Lesbian 
admiration  raised  temples  and  altars.  And  there  are  the 
genius  of  Madame  De  Stael,  and  the  scholarship  of 
Lady  Jane  Grey. 


24  MISCELLANIES. 

If  we  regard  woman's  capacity  for  eloquence,  what 
natural  advantages  of  sensibility,  and  fluency,  and 
fancy  !  What  richness  of  metaphor,  what  ingenuity  of 
persuasion  does  she  display !  Every  attribute  of  her 
sex,  and  every  quality  of  her  nature — the  sweetness  of 
her  lips,  the  mild  radiance  of  her  eyes,  the  weakness 
of  her  person,  and  the  reserve  of  her  deportment,  infi 
nitely  aid  her. 

So  we  read  of  the  successful  pleading  of  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  Lydian  king,  which  caused  opposing  hosts  to 
ground  their  weapons,  and  conclude  a  long  and  bitter 
struggle.  And  of  the  Celtic  women  who  saved  the  na 
tion  on  the  eve  of  a  civil  warfare.  And  of  Hortensia, 
when  she  victoriously  spoke  in  behalf  of  the  Roman 
matrons  against  the  tyranny  of  the  Triumvir.  And 
of  Miss  Tucker  who  at  the  Exeter  Assizes,  inex 
perienced  and  alone,  obtained  her  acquital  against  the 
direction  of  the  judge. 

If  we  regard  her  efforts  for  the  advancement  of 
science,  what  grander  example  than  that  of  Isabel,  who 
aided  the  adventurous  discovery  of  the  new  world.  Or 
what  more  interesting  instance  of  intelligent  study  than 
that  of  Miss  Herschel,  whose  original  observations  of 
the  heavens  were  acknowledged  by  learned  associations. 

Her  administrative  ability  has  been  demonstrat 
ed  by  Semiramis,  making  Babylon  the  beauty  of 
cities ;  and  by  Elizabeth,  establishing  the  glory  o.f 
England.  Women  have  been  also  eminent  in  the  field. 
There  was  the  military  maid  of  Orleans,  as  beautiful  as 
brave,  cased  in  the  rugged  gear  of  war,  climbing  fore 
most  "the  perilous  edge  of  battle  when  it  raged."  Or 
witness  the  famous  Telesilla,  whose  lyrics  gave  lustre 


WOMEN.  25 

to  the  city  of  Argos,  and  whose  brilliant  courage  saved 
it  from  the  desolations  of  a  siege.  Or  that  queen  of 
Carsonne,  who  with  shield  and  lance  drove  the  exulting 
Saracens  from  the  city  gates.  Or  the  wife  of  the 
sixth  Harry,  the  heroine  of  twelve  decisive  battles. 
Or  the  maid  of  Saragossa,  whose  intrepidity  revived 
the  failing  spirits  of  her  countrymen,  and  repulsed  the 
army  of  France.  Or  Boadicea,  the  Druid  queen  of 
Britain,  who  headed  her  rude  soldiery  against  the  steady 
legions  of  Rome. 

But  we  need  not  enumerate  instances  of  individual 
courage,  when  women  have  gone  to  the  field  in  squad 
rons,  moving  with  measured  tread  to  the  sound  of  "in 
strumental  harmony,"  and  fighting  till  the  "mailed 
Mars  did  on  his  altar  sit  up  to  the  ears  in  blood."  Thus 
the  Amazonians  of  Asia,  wild  as  Lapland  witches,  left 
their  native  hills  on  a  distant  expedition  to  meet  the 
army  of  Attica.  And  the  famous  Jane  Hachette  at 
the  head  of  a  regiment  of  female  voltigeurs,  with 
streaming  hair  and  clothes,  yelling  and  shouting  as 
only  women  can  yell  and  shout,  scared  the  troops  of 
Burgundy  from  the  town  of  Beauvais. 

Such  examples  exhibit  the  higher  capabilities  of  the 
sex  when  emergencies  call  them  forth.  But  public  sen 
timent  considers,  that  it  is 

"  Men  who  must  be  busy  out  of  doors,  must  stir 
The  city  ;  yea  make  the  great  world  aware 
That  they  are  in  it !  for  the  mastery  of  which 
They  race  and  wrestle." 

And  that  women  best  act  their  part 

"  When  they  do  make  their  ordered  houses  know  them." 

3 


26  MISCELLANIES. 

That  they  are  to  strive  by  moral  influence  and  natural 
graces. 

In  her  beauty  lies  a  source  of  power.  It  is  external 
and  therefore  is  an  instant  recommendation.  It  acts 
like  incantation  ;  reaches  the  roughest  heart  that  throbs ; 
dazzles,  fascinates  and  gives  immedicable  wounds. — 
It  has  been  mightier  than  the  sword,  or  sceptre, 
or  the  gifts  of  mind.  It  has  ruled  states  and  heroes ; 
foiled  philosophy  in  the  schools ;  won  the  prize  from 
genius  in  the  games  ;  wrung  mercy  from  the  judge  ;  made 
the  tyrant  gentle  ;  the  miser  liberal ;  the  bandit  honest. 
It  was  beauty  which  controlled  the  policy  pf  Athens  in 
the  splendid  period  of  Pericles.  It  saved  the  life  of 
Phryne,  when  the  reasoning  of  Socrates  failed.  It  five 
times  triumphed  over  the  hymns  and  paeans  of  Pindar, 
when  Corinna  was  his  rival.  It  drew  out  in  prodigal 
profusion  the  treasure  of  the  French  monarch,  when 
the  starving  populace  begged  in  vain.  It  stayed  the 
blow  of  death,  when  the  daughter  of  a  savage  chief  in 
terceded  for  a  stranger.  It  obtained  protection  from 
the  robber  for  an  outlawed  English  queen.  It  turned 
away  the  wrath  of  David,  when  it  pleaded  in  the  coun 
tenance  of  Abigal.  It  saved  the  scattered  Jews  from 
massacre,  when  Esther  besought  the  king.  It  carried 
the  poll  for  Fox,  when  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire 
reached  the  hustings. 

Yet  this  female  beauty  is  as  common  as  sight.  It  is 
peculiar  to  no  nation,  and  is  claimed  by  no  class.  It 
glows  in  the  goddess,  and  in  the  peasant  girl,  and  in 
the  Indian  squaw.  It  reigns  in  the  parlor,  in  the 
pantry,  and  in  the  fish  market.  It  drinks  nectar  on 
Olympus,  schnapps  in  Holland,  wine  in  Castile,  and 


WOMEN.  27 

signs  the  temperance  pledge  in  Kennett  Square.  It 
dances  on  the  stage,  prays  in  the  church,  swears  on  the 
wharf,  and  smokes  in  Matamoras.  It  sings  like  a 
nightingale,  and  screams  like  a  peacock.  It  scolds  on 
washing  day,  and  gossips  at  the  tea  party.  It  reads 
novels,  and  hymn-books,  and  valentines.  It  sews, 
spins,  scrubs,  cooks,  thumps  on  the  piano,  and  keeps 
no  secrets. 

It  is  difficult  to  define  the  source  of  that  beauty  of  the 
face  which  men  are  prone  to  worship.  Is  it  in  any  cast 
of  complexion  ?  There  have  been  beauties  colorless  as 
air,  pale  as  cream,  yellow  as  gold,  or  red  like  crimson, 
or  brown  as  autumn  leaves.  "Match  me"  (says  the 
bard) 

"  With  Spain's  dark  glancing  daughter-" 

While  Helen,  whose  charms  caused  strife  amongst  the 
gods,  had  the  complexion  of  smoke.  Is  it  in  the  glossy 
appearance  of  the  hair  ?  Venus  has  been  represented 
with  a  head  as  scarlet  as  fire.  Is  it  in  the  regularity  of 
features  ?  The  beauties  of  ancient  Persia  were  remark 
able  for  a  nose  like  an  eagle.  Is  it  in 

"  the  eyes  which  are  the  books,  the  academies, 
From  whence  doth  spring  the  true  Promethean  fire  ?" 

Homer  considered  that  they  were  only  beautiful  as  they 
were  large,  and  made  Juno's  the  size  of  an  ox's.  And 
the  goat  feeted  belles  of  China  have  them  no  bigger  than 
their  beads. 

The  standard  of  taste  varies.  It  requires  teeth  to  be 
gilded  in  Japan,  painted  red  in  India,  blackened  in 
Guzurat.  ,  The  skin  must  be  as  blue  as  the  sky  in 
Greenland,  jet  as  ebony  in  Monornotapa.  In  Peru  the 


28  MISCELLANIES. 

nostrils  are  hung  with  heavy  jewelry ;  and  goitres  orna 
ment  the  necks  of  Alpine  girls. 

Beauty  seems,  therefore,  dependent  for  its  impres 
sion  on  caprice  or  fashion.  It  is,  however,  the  element 
of  that  attraction  and  sympathetic  desire  of  hearts, 
which  the  world  calls  love. 

Love  requires  no  teaching.  It  is  prior  to  precept, 
independent  of  rule,  defies  calculation  and  description, 
and  engrosses  every  faculty  and  feeling.  It  merges  all 
other  considerations  into  a  single  impulse,  and  some 
times  turns  men  into  poets,  lunatics  and  corpses.  It  is 
the  bond  of  society,  which  it  pervades  like  an  atmos 
phere  ;  which  it  gilds  like  sunshine,  and  blesses  like 
grace. 

In  individual  instances  it  exhibits  infinite  phafees,  ac 
cordingly  as  occasion  or  temperament  gives  it  trial.  It 
is  coy,  tender,  serious,  ardent  and  irresistible.  It  is 
patient  of  mockery,  difficulty,  toil,  danger ;  unchecked 
by  injury,  indifference  or  doubt.  It  overlooks  the 
shame,  fault  or  folly  of  its  object ;  forgives,  excuses, 
extenuates  ;  spares  when  it  might  punish  ;  suffers  when 
it  might  avenge  ;  still  hopes  against  appearances  ;  still 
believes  against  disappointments ;  still  confides  though 
betrayed. 

"  When  the  soul  dejected  lies, 
Love  can  raise  it  to  the  skies. 
When  in  languor  sleeps  the  heart, 
Love  can  wake  it  with  his  dart." 

Its  influence  is  boundless.  It  reaches  all  periods  and 
conditions  of  existence.  It  pervades  and  thrills,  with 
trembling  or  anticipation  or  ecstasy,  the  feeble,  the 
youthful,  the  old,  the  homely,  the  humble,  the  pretty, 


WOMEN.  29 

and  the  brave.  It  cannot  be  concealed,  like  murder  it 
will  out.  It  feeds  upon  the  damask'd  cheek  ;  speaks  in 
the  languid  eye ;  cautious  silence  and  muttering  solilo 
quy  betray  it.  The  swain  carves  it  on  the  trees,  and 
pipes  it  on  his  reeds.  It  clings  to  the  wanderer  as  he 
wears  his  far  off  voyage  to  stranger  lands.  It  is  with 
the  soldier  on  the  red  field  of  battle  ;  with  the  ambitious 
in  the  fierce  wrestle  for  fortune  or  for  power ;  with  him 
who  bears  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  altar. 

It  has  affected  languages  and  creeds.  It  is  the  theme 
of  the  early  ballads,  and  of  cultivated  verse.  It  in 
spired  the  self  sacrifice  of  Phaon's  rejected  mistress ; 
the  immortal  sonnets  of  Petrarch  ;  the  letters  of  Eloisa 
and  Abelard. 

Love  was  the  subject  of  those  prize  productions, 
which  were  written  in  gold  on  the  walls  of  the  holiest 
temple  of  "Araby  the  blest."  In  the  palmy  days  of 
Grecian  letters,  when  fable  crowded  the  elements  with 
spirits,  love  was  made  a  god,  naked  and  blind,  armed 
with  bow  and  quiver,  and  graced  with  little  wings. 
That  little  god  still  doubtless  lives,  and  waves  his 
purple  pinions,  and  hurls  his  magic  arrows  into  infinite 
hearts.  For  love  is  now  as  it  was  of  old,  mysterious  as 
the  future,  omnipotent  as  death,  lasting  as  life,  and  uni 
versal  as  woman.  She  is  its  object,  and  ever  present 
cause. 

"  She  has  the  shaft  of  eyes 

That  far  the  shaft  of  war  out  flics." 

And  we  may  presume  that  tke  lustre  of  every  eye,  blue, 


30  MISCELLANIES. 

black,  gray,  and  hazel,  has  had  its  prey,  and  made  its 
conquest. 
For 

"  The  lover  very  frantic, 

Sees  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of 

Egypt." 

Without  the  aid  of  mythology  or  Calvinism,  one  might 
conclude  that  love  is  not  lottery,  but  fate.  That  its 
silken  cords  are  twisted,  and  its  gilded  meshes  woven 
by  the  fingers  of  destiny  herself.  Lovers,  like  poets, 
are  born.  Accident  or  circumstance  only  exposes  the 
latent  spark,  or  fans  it  into  flame.  So  all  the  tricks  of 
the  wooer  and  the  wooed — the  leer,  the  ogle,  the  sighing, 
the  weeping  and  beseeching,  the  Christmas  present,  the 
studied  flattery,  "the  grave  protestation  and  the  graver 
oath,"  "the  dumb  jewels,"  and  the  "exhausted  ink- 
horn,"  "the  woful  ballad,"  the  moonlight  meeting, 

"  On  hill,  on  dale,  forest  or  mead 

By  paved  fountain  or  by  rushing  brook,  or  on  the  beached  inargent 
of  the  sea;" 

The  billing,  the  pouting  and  the  quarrel ;  all  potions, 
physical  or  sentimental;  all  philters  of  drugs  and  con 
jurations,  are  but  the  wayward  incidents  of  that  true 
passion  "whose  course  never  did  run  smooth." 

While  there  is  so  much  that  is  praiseworthy  in 
woman,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  an  occasional 
one  has  failings,  delicate  and  pardonable  to  be  sure, 
yet  sufficient  to  keep  her  within  the  pale  of  hu 
manity.  Were  such  a  one  more  taciturn,  with  less 
curiosity  and  vanity,  she  would  be  nearly  perfect, 
almost  an  angel.  But  these  foibles  prove  her  mortal, 
"of  the  earth,  earthy."  .She  never  would,  she  never 


WOMEN.  31 

will  believe,  though  inspiration  penned,  and  mira 
cles  attested  it,  that  when  she  is  unadorned,  she  is 
adorned  the  most.  Tell  her  anything  but  that,  and  she 
is  as  credulous  as  a  child.  She  will  believe  in  dreams 
as  sweet  as  any  morning  ever  marred ;  in  fables  as  wild 
as  the  vagaries  of  a  mind  overthrown.  She  will  believe 
with  the  schoolman,  that  Adam  and  Eve  talked  High 
Dutch  in  paradise ;  with  the  story  teller,  that  three  wise 
men  of  Gotham,  went  to  sea  in  a  bowl ;  with  Joe  Night- 
head,  that  the  mummies  of  Egypt,  with  their  leathern 
lips  drank  brandy  cobblers  ;  with  gam  Johnson,  that 
ghosts  have  a  commonwealth  in  purgatory.  She  will 
believe  the  metempsychosian,  who  tells  her  the  soul  of 
Lucretia  gazes  from  her  eyes  ;  the  gipsey,  who  prophe 
sies  that  she  will  marry  an  Earl,  and  never  grow  old ; 
the  suitor,  who  swears  she  is  sweeter  than  honey,  and 
fairer  than  Hebe.  But  she  never  will  believe  that  the 
ornaments  of  fashion  are  not  the  "  sovereignest  things 
on  earth." 

But  in  pursuing  this  subject,  one  feels  like  the  hunter, 
when  as  he  climbs  the  style,  he  sees  a  notice — "All  per 
sons  are  forbid  trespassing  on  these  premises."  Let  us 
then  go  softly  towards  the  mysterious  precincts  of  the 
toilette,  and  with  fear  and  trembling  enter  that  curious 
arsenal,  where  maidenhood  arms  itself  for  the  battle  of 
love. 

There  hangs  the  list  of  wounded  gallants ;  some  anti 
dotes  for  ennui ;  the  last  dance ;  the  last  music  ;  the 
last  novel.  There  are  cosmetics  by  the  drawer  full ; 
rouge  labeled  in  French,  made  of  Connecticut  brick- 
dust  and  warranted  to  blush  in  every  climate.  There 
is  lily  whiteness,  in  a  paste  composed  of  chalk  ;  a  row 


32  MISCELLANIES. 

of  holiday  teeth ;  nippers  to  lengthen  the  eye  lashes ; 
oils  to  lubricate  the  hair,  and  tongs  to  undulate  it. 
There  are  extracts  from  bugs  and  flowers,  to  sweeten 
the  breath,  and  the  gloves  with  perfume  ;  and  essences 
and  drugs  for  sudden  spells  of  fainting  and  hysterics. 
There  is  the  mirror  to  tell  how  to  place  the  straggling 
curl,  and  hide  the  naughty  mole,  and  display  the  laugh 
ing  dimple,  and 

"  To  look  delightfully  with  all  the  might." 

There  is  the  lady's  own  book,  complete  without  a 
teacher — showing  how  the  waist  should  be  boddiced ; 
the  parasol  handled  ;  the  statuary  attitudes  ;  the  Pari 
sian  curtsy ;  the  prettiest  toss  of  the  head,  and  swing 
of  the  train.  There  are  gems  for  the  fingers,  and  gold 
for  the  neck.  There  are  ruflles  and  ribbons,  and  laces, 
and  fringes,  and  flounces,  and  feathers,  and  boards,  and 
cords,  and  cotton,  about  which  we  realize  the  poet's 
solace,  that  "ignorance  is  bliss." 

Yet  perhaps  they  would  themselves  pardon  and  favor 
the  opposite  precept. 

For  we  find  now  and  then  a  woman  troubled  with 
the  desire  to  know !  What  is  most  forbidden,  she 
is  most  anxious  to  find  out.  Her  curiosity  rises 
and  falls  in  proportion  to  the  secrecy  of  the  object 
which  excites  it.  The  sentence  of  prohibition  re 
commends  the  trespass.  She  risks  the  dreadful  pen 
alty  to  taste  the  fair  apples,  from  which  alone  she 
was  commanded  to  abstain.  She  would  not  forbear, 
though  it  should  turn  her  into  salt,  from  looking  behind 
her  on  the  guilty  city.  She  longed  to  raise  the  lid  of 
Pandora's  fearful  box  ;  and  to  lift  the  silver  veil  of  the 


WOMEN.  33 

mysterious  prophet  of  Khorassan.  She  crossed  terri 
tories  to  see  the  wisest  of  men,  and  try  with  him  the 
dazzling  foil  of  wit.  She  was  the  first  to  inquire  about 
stat  nominis  umbra ;  and  the  author  of  the  papers  of 
Boz. 

She  wants  to  know  the  latest  stranger,  and  the  fresh 
est  news — 

"  Who's  dead,  who's  broke,  who's  run  away  ?" 

Who  has  just  been  married,  and  how  they  are  going  to 
live.  She  wonders  what  they  are  doing  at  her  neigh 
bor's  ;  whether  the  man  with  the  moustache  is  widowed 
or  wedded,  or  engaged  ;  who  was  at  last  night's  party ; 
and  what  will  happen  next.  She  would  like  to  know  if 
it  is  going  to  rain,  and  hopes  it  will  not  thunder. 
She  would  like 

"  To  know  what's  what,  and  that's  as  high 
As  metaphysic  wit  can  fly." 

All  this  gives  employment  to  "  That  delightful  engine 
of  her  thoughts" — that  little  speaking  instrument,  which 
sometimes  aids  her  charms  and  always  her  ambition. 
So  with  some,  loquacity  becomes  a  habit  and  a  nature, 
which  no  influence  can  control.  They  will  suffer  per 
secution — they  will  die  at  the  stake  before  that  small 
member  shall  cease  and  remain  quiescent.  Though 
public  opinion,  though  the  church  command,  and  one 
rise  from  the  dead  and  cry,  *  silence ' — yet  on  it  goes 
from 

"  Morn  till  noon,  irom  noon  till  dewy  eve," 

and  perhaps  through  the  small  hours  of  the  drowsy 
night. 


34  MISCELLANIES. 

In  vain  have  laws  been  passed  against  such  for  bab 
bling  ;  and  common  scolds  been  placed  under  the  pump. 
They  demand  the  widest  liberty  of  speech ;  they  must 
talk  or  perish.  Perhaps  it  is  this  propensity  which 
makes  marriage  so  attractive  to  some,  and  unsatisfac 
tory  to  others  ;  which  makes  it 

"  Such  a  rabble  rout, 
That  those  who  are  out,  would  fain  get  in, 
And  those  who  are  in,  would  fain  get  out." 

But  there  are,  always,  serious  questions  in  the  matri 
monial  catechism.  It  would  require  some  ingenuity  to 
calculate  the  cost  of  that  institution ;  to  enter  into  the 
statistics  of  marriageable  conditions,  the  metaphysics 
of  choice,  the  economy  of  domestic  medicine,  market 
ing  and  furniture.  While  experience  is  so  various,  who 
will  decide ;  whether  disparity  in  age,  in  temper,  in 
worldly  means,  in  social  position,  in  external  appear 
ance,  or  in  substantial  merit,  is  to  be  regarded  or  de 
spised?  It  is  enough,  perhaps,  that  the  apostle  says, 
without  qualification,  that  marriage  is  honorable  in  all. 
The  wedding  brings  the  novelty  of  change,  and  displays 
to  hope  interesting  pictures  of  home,  fireside  and  do 
mestic  blessings.  But  there  is  the  sober  fact  that  dis 
appointment  cannot  be  cured,  and  repentance  will  not 
redeem.  There  is  the  vision  of  an  occasional  digression 
from  intra-mural  peace,  and  nightly  lectures  behind  the 
curtain,  where 

"  The  spouse  with  skill  vibrates  her  eternal  tongue, 
Forever  most  divinely  in  the  wrong." 

There  is  the  household  burthen — a  half  a  score  of  in 
fant  geniuses,  with  as  many  mouths,  voracious  and  vocal. 


WOMEN.  35 

There  is  every  Monday,  the  rush  and  wrangle  of  "  the 
red  armed  washers,"  who  riot  in  all  the  hubbub  of  drabs 
and  starch,  and  suds,  and  steam,  and  tubs,  and  pots, 
and  fire.  There  is  the  milliner's  weekly  charges  ;  the 
butcher's  weekly  dues ;  the  doctor's  lengthy  bill  for 
whooping  cough  and  measles;  and  perchance,  the 
bailiff's  lugubrious  shadow  periodically  darkens  the 
happy  husband's  door. 

But  such  connubial  experience  perhaps  chastens  the 
spirit. 

And  while  there  have  been  Caudles  and  Xantippes, 
there  have  been  others  "  who  open  the  mouth  with 
wisdom,  and  in  whose  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness." 
Such  was  the  consort  of  the  learned  Budaeus,  who 
shared  his  studies,  revived  his  energies  and  stimulated 
his  zeal.  Others  have  shown  unshrinking  attachment 
in  perilous  emergencies,  like  her 

"  Who  in  his  dark  prison  house, 
In  the  terrific  face  of  armed  law, 
Yea,  on  the  scaffold  as  it  needs  must  be, 
Never  did  forsake  him." 

Others  have  illustrated  various  virtues. 

We  see  her  friendship  in  the  beautiful  intercourse  of 
Naomi  and  Ruth.  Her  love  of  country,  when  the  exiled 
Jewish  daughters  wept  for  Zion,  and  when  Volumnia's 
prayers  saved  Rome.  Her  charity,  in  the  gifts  and  the 
ministering  hand  of  Dorcas.  Her  humility,  when 
Mary  washed  the  feet  of  Christ  and  wiped  them  with 
her  hair.  Her  faith,  when  Damaris  believed  Paul  on  the 
Areopagus,  teaching  the  Athenians  the  unknown  God. 
And  great  was  the  faith  of  her  who  prayed  merely  for 
the  crumbs  of  the  master's  table ;  and  of  her  who 


36  MISCELLANIES. 

deemed  the  hem  of  the  Saviour's  garment  hallowed  with 
healing  virtue.  And  admirable  is  the  conduct  of  those, 
who  now,  bless  by  their  service  or  their  means,  the 
righteous  defence  of  free  institutions.  Thus,  in  all  cir 
cumstances,  have  the  sex  proved  themselves  adapted 
to  their  position,  and  fulfilled  the  great  purpose  of 
their  mission. 

"  Then  honor  to  woman  entwining  and  braiding, 
Life's  garland  with  roses  forever,  unfading." 


ABBOTSFORD*  AND  MELROSE. 

Scott  has  made  these  localities  familiar  and  famous. 
We  seem  to  know  every  crag  and  moor,  every  burn  and 
ruin — to  realize  at  once  his  descriptions,  tales  and  his 
tories.  His  imagination,  like  the  mirror  of  the  al 
chemist,  makes  the  past  return  and  the  unreal  to  appear. 
We  witness  again  the  fairy  revels,  the  gory  feuds,  the 
harper's  lay,  the  wizard's  spells.  Here  again  is  the 
ancient  Rymer  who  Wooed  the  Elfin  queen.  Here  is 
the  magician  whose  body  casts  no  shadow,  whose  word 
cleft  the  hills  and  stayed  the  flood ;  into  whose  mighty 
book  mortal  durst  not  gaze.  The  cliffs  are  again  ablaze 
with  beacon  fires ;  the  glens  echo  with  the  slogan  of  the 
clans,  with  the  tramp  of  troopers,  and  the  twang  of 
archers'  bows.  From  the  broken  walls  of  abbeys  come 
the  toll  of  vesper  bells,  and  the  chaunt  of  beaded  friars. 
The  palmer  "  who  has  kissed  the  blessed  tomb,"  wanders 
again  from  shrine  to  shrine,  with  his  scallop  shell  and 
faded  branch.  The  old  castle  hall  resounds  with  pibroch 
and  ballad,  and  the  bold  Barons  feast  on  peacock  and 
wild  boar.  The  warder's  challenge  is  shouted  from  the 
tower.  The  heralds  post  their  champions  and  assert 
their  cause.  The  dwarf,  the  page,  the  palfry  with  its 
bells,  the  maiden  with  her  flowing  wimple  and  her  petted 
hawk,  all  pass  before  us. 

(37)  4 


38  MISCELLANIES. 

But  here,  also,  all  the  personal  associations  of  the 
poet  are  revived.  Beneath  yon  firs,  by  the  green  banks 
of  the  silver  Tweed,  up  those  devious  paths,  with  staff 
and  hound,  he  often  strayed.  There  are  the  heather 
hills  he  loved  so  well.  This  was  his  delectable  moun 
tain,  from  which  he  glanced  over  Smailholme  tower, 
Teviotdale  and  Ettrick  shaws,  and  Yarrow  braes,  and 
Gala  water.  There  is  the  shattered  heap  of  Melrose, 
with  its  foliaged  window  and  florid  dome,  "  so  sad  and 
fair,"  which  his  fancy,  like  the  pale  moonlight,  has 
gilded  with  its  silver  touch.  Amidst  the  spreading 
grove  stands  Abbotsford,  his  Baronial  hall.  A  quaint 
odd  pile  of  tower,  and  battlement,  and  balcony — with 
old  mottoes  on  the  gables,  old  busts  built  in  the  walls, 
arches  and  carvings  copied  from  ruins,  and  heraldic 
paintings  on  the  windows.  A  piece  of  architecture  as 
various,  as  picturesque  and  romantic  as  his  genius. 

Within  are  rare  relics — from  the  Ganges,  frow  New 
Zealand ;  of  the  days  of  Alfred,  of  Wallace  ;  the  pistols 
of  Claverhouse,  the  gun  of  Rob  Roy,  the  hunting  bottle 
of  James  the  First,  the  portraits  of  Charles  the  Twelfth 
of  Sweden,  and  of  Cromwell ;  ebony  chairs  from  George 
the  Fourth,  wall  paper  painted  in  China.  The  library 
is  large.  His  study  contains  his  armchair,  covered  with 
black  leather,  his  writing  desk,  his  canes,  his  hatchet, 
his  checkered  trowsers,  his  heavy  shoes — articles  more 
attractive  than  any  which  he  gathered. 

"  But  hush'd  is  the  harp,  the  minstrel  gone." 

The  rooms  are  vacant  which  witnessed  his  tall  form, 
his  cordial  cheer,  his  keen  wit,  his  free  laugh,  his  fond 
guests,  his  devoted  dogs. 


ABBOTSFORD   AND    MELROSE.  89 

The  grounds  seem  dull  and  drear.  The  green  trees, 
the  blowing  roses,  the  soft  air,  suggest  nothing  but  his 
absence. 

"  Call  it  not  vain— they  do  not  err 
Who  say  that  when  the  poet  dies, 
Mute  nature  mourns  her  worshippers, 
And  celebrates  his  obsequies.', 


LORD  BROUGHAM. 

The  first  time  I  saw  Lord  Brougham,  he  was  engaged 
in  hearing  an  appeal.  He  wore  a  black  frock  coat,  buff 
waistcoat,  and  plaid  pantaloons.  His  appearance  re 
sembled  somewhat  that  of  the  senior  Mr.  C.  J.  Ingersoll, 
of  Philadelphia.  His  features  were  stern,  and  expres 
sive  of  confidence,  his  eyes  gray,  his  mouth  large,  and 
he  had  a  peculiar  twitch  of  the  muscle  at  the  end  of  his 
nose.  He  was  what  they  call  fidgety.  He  frequently 
crossed  his  legs,  folded  his  arms,  and  changed  his 
position.  He  often  interrupted  Dr.  Adams,  who  was 
arguing  a  marriage  question,  and  suggested  his  doabts 
in  a  very  amusing  manner. 

On  another  occasion,  with  a  card  of  admission  from 
Mr.  Bancroft,  I  went  to  the  House  of  Lords. 

This  hall  is  almost  a  hundred  feet  long,  and  half  as 
wide,  and  half  as  high.  Two  rows  of  red  morocco 
sofas,  for  the  Peers,  rise  from  an  aisle  in  the  centre 
towards  the  opposite  sides.  A  narrow  balcony  above  is 
railed  in  with  brass,  and  supported  by  elaborately  wrought 
corbels.  The  walls  are  wainscoted  with  ornamented 
oak.  Appropriate  paintings  fill  the  lofty  windows  and 
compartments.  The  floor  is  covered  with  a  luxurious 
carpet  of  blue  and  roses.  The  paneled  roof  is  exqui 
sitely  carved  and  colored.  The  throne  is  bright  with 
gold,  crystal  and  velvet.  The  brazen  candelabras  fling 

(40) 


LORD   BROUGHAM.  41 

the  splendor  of  a  hundred  lights  over  infinite  illustrations 
of  the  heraldry,  the  heroism  and  the  glory  of  England. 

The  attendance  was  full,  and  the  Peers,  as  usual,  sat 
with  their  hats  on.  The  French  occupancy  of  Rome 
was  to  be  discussed.  Having  reinstated  the  Papal  gov 
ernment,  France  still  occupied  that  capital  with  her 
troops.  This  excited  the  suspicion  of  other  powers. 
Lord  Brougham  denounced  it.  His  voice  was  not  musi 
cal,  but  full,  flexible  and  strong.  He  spoke  with  a 
fluency  not  usual  amongst  Englishmen,  who  generally, 
like  Lords  Palmerston  and  Russell,  hesitate  as  if  for  a 
word  or  an  idea.  His  manner  was  natural,  and  he 
"suited  the  action  to  the  word."  He  had  not  the  dra 
matic  grace  of  Everett,  whose  gestures  seem  to  follow 
his  imagination  up  the  shining  steps  of  his  golden 
climax.  Nor  the  trembling  fervor  of  Choate,  who 
appeared  to  wrestle  with  the  inspiring  angel  of  his 
nature.  Nor  the  persuasive  style  of  Prentiss,  as  he 
touched  those  sweet  notes  which,  like  the  heavenly 
bird's  in  Swedish  fable,  made  one  forget  the  hours. 
But  his  gesticulations  were  defiant,  as  if  he  dared  denial 
— or  menacing,  as  if  he  would  force  conviction — or 
derisive,  as  if  he  disdained  dispute. 

Sometimes  he  pointed  with  his  finger ;  sometimes 
he  brought  .both  hands  down  in  parallel  lines,  swaying 
his  body  forward.  He  was  often  very  witty,  and  set 
the  house  in  a  roar.  He  was  generally  sarcastic  and 
vehement.  He  commenced  rather  abruptly.  He  ad 
vanced  a  step,  and  elevated  his  arm  as  if  about  to  strike 
a  slashing  blow  with  his  fist.  His  voice  rose  to  the 
loudest  pitch,  and  seemed  to  shake  the  fixtures.  His 
sentences  poured  forth  full,  round,  and  rapid  as  grape 


42  MISCELLANIES. 

shot.  His  countenance,  not  handsome,  became,  as  it 
were,  grand  with  rage.  He  concentrated  all  eyes  stead 
fastly  upon  him ;  stern  old  warriors  looked  as  if  stirred 
by  a  trumpet ;  beautiful  women  leaning  over  the  ban 
nister,  quivered  with  emotion ;  foreigners,  who  did  not 
understand  the  language,  were  excited  by  his  earnest 
ness  ;  some  reflected  in  their  features  every  impulse  of 
N  the  moment,  every  feeling  he  uttered, 

"  Breathed  his  passion,  echoed  his  scorn;" 

Some  seemed  to  shrink  from  him  as  in  fear ;  some 
glowed  with  admiration.  Every  person,  in  one  way  or 
another,  paid  an  unconscious  tribute  to  the  force  and 
fascination  of  his  eloquence.  It  was  an  effort  not  un 
worthy  of  one  of  the  first  characters  of  his  time. 

And  however  much  men  may  call  his  genius  eccentric, 
because  it  invades  so  many  departments  of  knowledge  ; 
and  his  information  superficial,  because  it  is  so  univer 
sal  ;  and  depreciate  his  papers  on  science,  his  criticisms 
in  literature,  his  decisions  as  chancellor — yet  none  can 
fairly  deny  his  excellence  in  what  Quintillian  describes 
as  true  oratory.  m> 


"  Auld  Ayr,  wham  ne'er  a  town  surpasses 
For  honest  men  and  bonnie  lasses." 

The  appearance  of  Ayr  is  not  prepossessing.  Many 
of  its  houses  are  of  stone  or  clay,  one  story  high,  and 
roofed  with  straw.  The  river  divides  the  town,  but  the 
streets  are  not  clean.  The  ocean  is  at  hand,  but  the 
air  is  not  sweet.  Women  drive  carts,  push  wheel 
barrows,  and  have  yellow  hair.  People  are  generally 
polite,  talk  with  a  broad  accent,  grow  tall,  incline  to 
believe  in  ghosts  and  fairies,  and  drink  hot  whiskey 
punch  after  dinner. 

The  scenery  is  not  grand.  The  hills  are  small,  the 
streams  narrow,  and  the  sea  view  is  obstructed  by  the 
island  of  Arran.  The  place  is  nevertheless  attractive. 

Near  by,  in  a  small  cottage,  about  twelve  by  fifteen 
feet  in  size,  an  old  woman  sells  ale,  and  shows  the  re 
cess  where,  in  1759,  Burns  was  born.  His  portrait  on 
wood,  and  the  walls,  and  chairs,  and  tables,  are  scrib 
bled  over  with  pilgrims'  names. 

In  sight,  is  "  Alloways  auld  haunted  kirk,"  small 
and  low,  with  a  bell  still  swinging  on  one  of  the  steep 
gables.  It  has  no  roof,  a  plane  tree  grows  within  it, 
the  walls  are  covered  with  ivy,  and  pierced  with  three 
windows  and  a  door. 

A  grave  digger,  quaint  as  Hamlet's,  pointed  out  where 
the  mare  "Maggie  stood  right  sair  astonished,"  and 
forward,  where  Tarn  O'Shanter  himself  was  bewildered 

(43) 


44  MISCELLANIES. 

at  the  boisterous  frolic  of  the  witches,  the  roaring  storm, 
the  blazing  coffins,  the  bloody  banquet,  and  auld  nick, 
in  shape  of  beast,  blowing  with  might  and  main,  the 
infernal  music.  A  stone's  throw  off,  is  the  narrow  brig 
of  Doon,  now  grass  grown,  over  which  Tarn  fled  from  the 
hellish  legion,  after  he  expressed  his  admiration  for 
cutty  sark ;  and  whose  key  stone  cut  short  her  pursuit, 
his  adventure,  and  Maggie's  tail. 

The  Burns  monument  is  near,  containing  his  bible, 
and  the  inimitable  group  of  Tarn  and  souter  Johnny, 
by  Thorn. 

It  was  here,  by  the  straying  waters,  by  the  haunted 
ruins,  in  the  harvest,  in  the  market,  in  the  ale  house, 
at  the  cottar's  hearth,  by  glen  and  brae,  on  rock  and 
heather,  the  bard  wooed  the  muses  and  the  lasses.  His 
humor  and  pathos,  his  sense  and  genius,  his  sufferings 
.and  his  follies,  have  alone  given  an  enduring  interest  to 
the  neighborhood  of  Ayr. 


MISAPPLIED  INDUSTRY. 

Labor,  wisely  directed,  is  the  true  object  of  life,  and 
the  whole  duty  of  man. 

This  is  the  spirit  of  the  Divine  ordinance — to  which 
rest  is  a  wholesome  exception,  and  of  which  sloth  is  a 
pernicious  infringement. 

The  motives  to  action  are  as  universal  as  the  con 
ditions  and  periods,  as  the  senses  and  faculties  of  exis 
tence.  Men  act  from  the  love  of  business;  to  ex 
tinguish  a  rooted  sorrow,  or  corroding  care ;  to  avoid 
the  perils  of  accident  or  contrivance ;  to  meet  the  ne 
cessities  or  caprices  of  life  ;  to  acquire  political  interest 
or  lasting  fame ;  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  avarice,  of 
vanity,  revenge,  or  pride ;  to  discharge  the  grateful 
offices  of  charity  or  faith. 

While  every  field  is  occupied,  every  effort  has  an  in 
fluence.  Nothing,  indeed  seems  too  high  or  mean,  or 
difficult,  or  doubtful,  or  dangerous  for  human  endeavor 
and  impression.  There  is  hardly  a  measure  for  man's 
industrial  faculty.  It  creates  incumbrances,  or  sur 
mounts,  or  removes  them.  It  achieves,  or  applies,  or 
destroys  results.  It  strengthens  or  despoils  itself;  it 
fulfills  or  ruins  the  purposes  of  life. 

But  it  is  known  only  by  its  exercise,  and  to  be  ap 
proved,  it  must  be  employed  for  salutary  ends.  The 
ability  which  has  been  perverted,  the  energies  which 

(45) 


46  MISCELLANIES. 

mankind  have  misapplied,  might  have  made  the  earth 
as  lovely  as  Eden.  History,  then,  might  have  been 
spared  the  recital  of  melancholy  truths.  The  world 
would  not  have  been  such  a  scene  of  suffering  and 
shame,  nor  human  nature  shown  such  examples  of  folly. 
There  would  not  have  been  witnessed  the  alternate  or 
combined  ascendancy  of  delusion  and  discord ;  nor  the 
the  ceaseless  oscillations  of  opinion,  shifting  the  charac 
ter  of  merit,  and  unfixing  the  standards  of  civil  obli 
gation  and  social  order ;  nor  the  terrific  ebullitions  of 
public  passion,  overturning  or  shaking  the  organiza 
tions  of  force  or  reason,  and  scattering  abroad  corrup 
tion  and  disaster. 

If  wisdom  had  always  guided  the  operations  of  power, 
its  means  would  have  been  multiplied,  and  its  results 
blessed.  Man's  condition  would  have  been  elevated,  his 
happiness  promoted ;  the  blood  of  armies  and  the 
wealth  of  nations  would  not  have  been  spent  in  desper 
ate  struggles  in  the  cause  of  fanaticism,  of  rapine  or 
revenge.  Gorgeous  dwellings  would  not  have  been 
constructed  for  idol  deities,  or  vain-glorious  kings. 
Monuments  would  not  have  been  piled  up  to  infamous 
or  obscure  names.  Costly  inclosures  would  not  have 
been  formed  for  whatever  is  brutal  or  trivial,  in  human 
exhibition.  Garlands,  pageants,  and  protection  would  not 
have  been  prepared  for  successful  tyrants,  or  fortunate 
fools.  Wild  and  imaginary  theories  would  not  have 
been  pursued  without  regard  to  the  analogies  of  nature, 
or  the  utilities  of  life.  Learned  inquiries  would  not 
have  been  made  about  phenomena  which  existed  only 
in  dreams;  or  about  futile  distinctions  of  arbitrary 
signs,  and  uncertain  shadows.  If  folly  had  never  ruled, 


MISAPPLIED   INDUSTRY.  47 

vanity  would  have  had  no  column,  no  trophies,  no  vic 
tims  ;  superstition  would  have  had  no  temples ;  ambition 
would  have  filled  no  thrones,  established  no  forts,  waged 
no  wars.  Neither  the  son  of  Darius,  nor  the  son  of 
Philip  would  have  crossed  the  Hellespont ;  the  one  to 
return  like  a  fugitive,  the  other  to  perish  in  the  blaze 
of  an  eastern  debauch.  Athens  would  have  saved  the 
the  blood  she  lavished  in  the  engagements  of  the  Pelo 
ponnesus.  The  Punic  chieftain  would  not  have  accom 
plished  a  vengeful  oath ;  and  the  invaders  would  have 
spared  the  ancient  mistress  of  the  seas.  The  renown 
of  Mithridates  would  not  have  been  owing  to  the  num 
ber  of  cities  he  besieged,  or  dimmed  by  the  overthrow 
he  suffered.  Marius  would  not  have  turned  a  parricidal 
hand  against  his  country,  nor  repined  her  wandering 
exile  amidst  the  desolations  of  Carthage.  Caesar 
would  not  have  carried  terror  amongst  the  tribes  of 
Gaul,  nor  passed  the  Rubicon,  nor  fallen  in  the  capitol. 
The  barbarian  hordes  would  not  have  swept  with  fire 
the  fair  fields  of  Italy,  nor  the  streets  of  the  imperial 
city. 

The  wild  chief  of  the  Tartars  would  not  have  raised 
a  pyramid  of  human  skulls  to  immortalize  his  infamy. 
The  Corsican  would  not  have  channeled  Europe  with 
his  camps,  to  grace  his  shoulders  with  the  purple,  and 
lift  his  family  up  to  thrones. 

England  would  not  have  turned  her  cannon  against 
the  feeble  or  the  barbarous,  to  enlarge  her  possessions, 
and  multiply  her  markets.  The  political  heresy  of 
secession  would  not  have  risen,  like  a  fiend  from  the 
stygian  vale,  with  bloody  tongue  and  flaming  brand,  to 


48  MISCELLANIES. 

war  against  the  peace  and  progress  of  the  great  Re 
public. 

And  see  what  intellect  has  been  engrossed  and  wasted 
by  schools  of  sophistry  and  mystery.  When  the  arts  of 
magic  and  astrology  were  cultivated  by  a  class  of  jug- 
lers  in  Chaldea ;  whose  boasted  astronomical  observa 
tions  proved  the  earth  the  shape  of  a  ship,  sailing  in 
an  ocean  of  air.  When  Zoroaster  and  his  disciples 
taught  flagrant  follies,  and  inculcated  the  worship  of 
perpetual  fire  in  the  Persian  temples.  When  the  Gym- 
nosophists  on  the  Ganges  ranked  indolence  and  absti 
nence  the  chief  duties  of  life,  and  the  chief  virtues  of 
religion.  When  the  learning  of  the  Egyptian  and 
Ethiopian  priesthoods  was  concealed  in  the  mystery  of 
hieroglyphical  symbols,  and  confined  to  speculations  on 
the  spiritual  merits  of  crocodiles  and  cows.  When  the 
Celtic  race  of  Druids  veiled  their  knowledge  in  the 
seclusion  of  caverns  and  groves,  to  sustain  their  mystic 
order,  and  their  horrid  ritual  of  human  sacrifice. 

When  reverence  was  paid  to  that  imposing  system  of 
Caballa  in  the  sacred  nation,  founded  on  the  oriental 
superstition  of  emanations  from  the  Deity.  When  per 
manence  was  given  to  those  divisions  of  the  faithful — 
of  the  Sadducees  on  the  one  hand,  who  insisted  on  the 
identity  of  soul  and  body,  and  the  mortality  of  both ; 
and  the  Pharisees  on  the  other,  who  swayed  the  San 
hedrim  and  the  Synagogue  with  the  traditionary  cor 
ruptions  of  the  text,  and  the  plausible  hypocrisy  of 
forms.  When  the  early  Christian  fathers  mingled  spec 
ulative  dogmas  with  the  epistles  of  apostles  and  visions 
of  prophets ;  or  sanctioned  absurd  fictions  ;  or  the  prac 
tice  of  allegorical  interpretations,  or  ascetic  rules  and 


MISAPPLIED    INDUSTRY.  49 

habits,  thus  shaking  the  authority,  and  confusing  the 
simplicity  of  the  truth  revealed. 

And  see  what  labor  was  lost  in  those  few  centuries  of 
darkness,  when  almost  the  universal  mind  seemed  in 
volved  in  sleep,  so  profound  that  it  scarcely  gave  the 
slightest  evidence  of  its  powers.  When  the  written 
tenets  could  not  always  be  understood,  or  read  by  those 
ordained  to  teach  them.  When  the  grossest  license 
was  granted  to  the  worst  propensities ;  and  the  meanest 
merit  disgraced  the  highest  station.  When  the  narrow 
summary  of  the  trivium  and  quadrivium  was  the  essence 
of  scholarship ;  and  the  treasures  of  literature  were 
buried  in  the  dust  and  cloisters  of  abbeys ;  or  burned 
in  the  flames  which  bigotry  or  barbarism  kindled. 
When  the  ignorance  of  Boeotia,  and  the  corruption  of 
Corinth  cursed  the  largest  portion  of  the  Christian 
church. 

And  see  what  ingenuity  was  misapplied  in  that  later 
period,  when  occasional  lights  glimmered  like  stars  in 
the  gray  dusk  of  morning.  When  the  mind  showed 
signs  of  awakening  consciousness,  but  seemed  laboring 
under  the  influence  of  lingering  dreams.  When  reason 
resumed  her  post,  but  not  her  office;  justified  her 
strength,  but  not  her  usefulness  ;  and  was  employed  in 
sterile  logomachies  about  a  system  of  scholastic  subtle 
ties.  A  system  which  started  in  the  Lyceum  of  the 
Peripatetics,  was  kept  alive  by  the  zeal  of  the  rational 
Mussulmans  to  defend  the  authority  of  the  Prophet,  and 
the  absurdities  of  the  Koran ;  and  transmitted,  at  last, 
through  devious  channels,  and  in  an  altered  guise,  to  a 
new  order  of  metaphysical  fanatics. 


50  MISCELLANIES. 

These,  like  the  erudite  devils  of  Milton, 

''reasoned  high 

Of  Providence,  foreknowledge,  will  and  fate, 
Fixed  fate,  free  will,  foreknowledge  absolute, 
And  found  no  end  in  wandering  mazes  lost." 

Like  the  Mirror  of  knighthood, 

"  They  knew  the  seat  of  Paradise, 

Could  tell  on  what  degree  it  lies ; 

»*»»**» 

They  could  reduce  all  things  to  acts, 
And  knew  their  nature  by  abstracts." 

They  waged  fierce  contests  about  degrees,  properties 
and  forms,  the  significance  and  construction  of  verbiage, 
the  condition  and  quality  of  essences,  the  duration  of 
infinity,  the  virtue  of  numbers,  the  impossibility  of  mo 
tion,  the  contemporaneous  and  separate  existence  of 
individuals  and  universals,  the  malleability  of  music, 
and  the  substances  of  angels  and  ideas. 

Some  seizing  hold  of  irresistible  difficulties  of  human 
belief,  applied  them,  as  a  principle  of  skepticism ;  to  as 
sail  the  foundation  of  all  knowledge.  Others,  enthusi 
astically  eager  to  exhibit  the  intensity  of  their  faith, 
and  mistaking  the  true  mission  of  the  scriptures,  re 
garded  them  too  fondly  as  the  only  source  and  com 
pendium  of  universal  science.  Others,  loading  the 
sacred  writings  with  philosophical  scholia,  made  a  sys 
tem  of  theology  which  seemed  neither  human  nor  divine. 
Others,  rejecting  the  proprieties  of  sense  and  reason, 
devised  schemes  which  implied  their  possession  of  super 
natural  virtues,  and  named  themselves  the  illuminated 
of  God.  And  yet  all  were  so  imbued  with  reverence  for 
prescriptive  names,  that  the  dogmas  of  ancient  sects 
predominated  in  the  schools;  the  Stagirite  was  more 


MISAPPLIED    INDUSTRY.  51 

potent  than  the  apostle,  and  the  sacred  assemblies  often 
listened  to  the  ethics  of  Aristotle,  instead  of  the  epistles 
of  Paul. 

Thus  salutary  innovation  was  checked  by  those  who 
obtained  a  catalogue  of  transcendant  titles,  and  the 
tribute  of  posthumous  honors,  for  corrupting  language, 
contriving  fallacies,  and  obscuring  truth.  They  la 
bored,  but,  like  the  athletes,  for  exhibition.  They  dis 
played  ability,  but  accomplished  no  end.  They  dis 
puted,  they  criticised,  they  abridged,  they  compiled, 
but  they  did  not  instruct.  They  produced  books,  but 
not  knowledge.  They  invented  theories,  but  discovered 
no  truths.  They  sowed  the  field  of  intellect,  but  with 
mischievous  seed.  They  had  a  harvest,  but  it  was  of 
thorns  and  thistles.  No  useful  growth  appeared,  no 
flowers  bloomed,  no  fruitage  ripened. 

Such  instances  of  misdirected  talents  are  only  to  be 
regarded,  that  they  may  be  avoided.  They  who  would 
dedicate  themselves  to  worthy  purposes,  must  recognize 
other  standards,  and  imitate  other  models.  They  must 
not  be  seduced  by  the  glare  of  false  lights ;  nor  dis 
couraged  by  the  failure  of  false  efforts.  Every  guide  is 
to  be  shunned,  whose  rules  teach  nothing  but  display ; 
whose  example  illustrates  everything  but  virtue  ;  whose 
achievements  have  engendered  mischief,  or  left  no  mark. 

Every  principle  is  to  be  discarded  which  narrows  the 
circle  of  the  sympathies ;  which  promotes  the  selfish 
inclination  of  the  passions ;  which  militates  against  the 
natural  evidence  of  the  senses,  or  the  natural  sugges 
tions  of  the  conscience. 

But  that  is  a  proper  course  to  pursue  which  tends  to 
dissipate  error,  to  diminish  the  force  of  temptation,  to 


52  MISCELLANIES. 

increase  the  attractions  and  influence  of  merit,  to  diffuse 
the  blessings,  and  enlarge  the  capacity  of  rational  en 
joyment. 

Those  labors  are  laudable  which  promise  to  explain 
some  phenomena  ;  apply,  develop  or  improve  some  use 
ful  principle  or  agent ;  which  supersede  vicious  in 
dulgence  by  intellectual  productions ;  which  organize 
what  was  scattered  or  discordant  in  politics  or  in  morals, 
giving  to  both  the  facilities  of  system,  to  concentrate 
their  means  and  extend  their  advantage ;  which  faith 
fully  discharge  the  salutary  requirements  of  public  in 
terest  and  responsibility ;  which  illustrate  life  by  con 
sistency  and  benevolence. 

Those  characters  are  to  be  emulated  who,  having  bene 
ficially  applied  great  energies,  stand  prominent  and 
conspicuous — the  foreground  figures  in  the  panorama 
of  the  world.  They  are  the  aristocracy  of  history. 

Whatever  merit  the  race  can  boast  of,  whatever  ad 
vancement  it  has  made,  whatever  hopes  it  may  cherish, 
next  to  heaven,  they  are  the  source  and  authority  of 
them  all.  Theirs  is  the  earnest  oratory  which  has 
gushed  from  the  rostra,  the  tribune  and  the  pulpit ;  the 
rapturous  melody  which  has  dropped  like  honey  from 
the  lips  of  sweetest  bards  ;  the  streams  of  wisdom  which 
have  flowed  from  the  closet  and  the  grove ;  the  revela 
tions  which  have  issued  from  the  laboratory,  the  ob 
servatory  and  the  cabinet ;  the  interesting  features  of 
the  past  which  graphic  pens  have  delineated  ;  the  faith 
ful  representations  embodied  on  the  painter's  canvas ; 
the  life-mocking  creations  of  the  sculptor ;  the  glory 
which  wise  counsels  have  shed  over  communities  and 
nations  ;  the  garland  of  honor  which  encircles  the  heroic 


MISAPPLIED    INDUSTRY.  53 

patriot's  forehead ;  the  blessings  which  follow  the  steps 
of  the  philanthropist  from  hearts  his  alms  have  glad 
dened. 

He  who  desires  to  act  well  his  part,  must  observe 
such  exemplary  results ;  but  he  must  do  more ;  he 
must  look  behind  them,  and  see  how  they  are  evolved. 
He  must  go  to  nature.  She  has  her  libraries,  her 
lyceums,  her  academies.  She  has  no  useless  volumes, 
no  false  professors.  Her  language  is  plain,  her  dogmas 
orthodox.  No  incongruities  mar  the  harmony  of  her 
system ;  no  absurdities  alloy  the  value  of  her  precepts. 
She  yields  her  stores  and  attractions  without  reserve  or 
limit.  She  directs  her  votaries  to  her  works — to  the 
universal  evidence  of  life ;  to  the  infinite  combination 
of  materials ;  the  diversity  of  forms ;  the  mingling  of 
colors  ;  the  diapason  of  sounds  ;  the  variety  of  relations  ; 
the  re-invigorating  principle  of  change. 

She  exhibits  the  marvelous  union  of  flesh  and  spirit ; 
their  distinct  spheres  and  characters ;  their  separate 
capacities  of  pleasure,  and  pain,  and  usefulness ;  their 
different  standards  of  merit  and  reward ;  their  adverse 
and  opposite  inclinations ;  their  disproportionate  influ 
ence  and  destiny.  How  the  one  is  enduring  and  un 
seen  ;  the  other  transient  and  visible.  How  the  one  acts 
by  contact;  the  other  without  it.  How  the  one  ranges 
over  the  past,  the  distant  and  the  future ;  and  the  other 
is  restricted  to  the  present  and  the  near.  And  how 
they  yet  co-exist,  and  are  mutually  dependent  and  rer 
ciprocal.  How  the  mind  secures  the  impressions  which 
the  sense  presents;  abstracts,  compares,  and  represents 
them  in  imaginary  forms  and  clusters.  How  the  pas 
sions  and  the  reason  struggle,  and  then  harmonize;  con- 


54  MISCELLANIES. 

trol  the  conduct ;  shed  lights  and  shadows,  gay  scenes 
and  sad,  over  the  pathway  of  life. 

Nature  points  from  these,  from  time  and  its  relations, 
to  her  great  first  cause  and  author. 

Let  the  student  docile  listen  to  His  words.  They 
teach  what  oracles  could  not  tell,  what  philosophy 
could  not  prove — mortal  origin  and  destiny.  They 
promise  what  has  no  other  source — wisdom  undefiled. 

That  wisdom  is  adapted  to  every  era  and  locality, 
and  every  stage  of  existence.  But  it  is  especially  ap 
propriate  to  that  early  period,  which  preceeds  the  draw 
ing  nigh  of  evil  days ;  when  the  nature  is  pliahle  and 
plastic,  and  the  affections  fresh  and  warm;  when  the 
spirits  briskly  flow,  and  the  blood  dances  in  its  chan 
nels  ;  when  the  thoughts  are  unshackled  by  the  chains 
of  habit,  and  the  heart  is  unhardened  by  accummula- 
ted  sin ;  before  the  memory  is  stuffed  with  loathsome  re 
collections,  and  the  attention  is  deadened  to  impressions 
by  the  multiplicity  of  cares  ;  before  disappointment  has 
chilled  the  ardor  of  hope,  and  injuries  roused  the  vin- 
dictiveness  of  passion  ;  before  misfortune's  bitter  chalice 
has  been  tasted,  and  the  frame  and  faculties  droop  with 
the  debilities  of  age ;  before  the  day  is  far  spent ;  be 
fore  the  morning  dews  are  dried,  and  the  bloom  is  wilted 
by  tl}e  heat  of  noon — learn  then  that  wisdom  to  which 
all  otfyer  things  shall  be  added.  It  can  mould  the  early 
attributes  toward  good,  ar^d  counteract  the  besetting 
solicitations,  and  easy  opportunities  of  evil.  It  smooths 
the  rough,  and  enlightens  the  dark  places  of  life.  It  is 
a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.  It  avails 


MISAPPLIED   INDUSTRY.  55 

more  than  human  learning.  It  is  dearer  than  rubies, 
stronger  than  the  sword,  fairer  than  flowers.  It  is 
lasting.  But  faith  shall  be  absorbed  in  sight,  prophe 
cies  fail,  laurels  wither,  power  decay,  earth  fade,  death 
shall  gather  his  last  harvest,  and  "the  dissolution  of  all 
things  shall  ripen."  But  the  wisdom  which  cometh 
from  above,  shall  endure  in  more  radiant  regions — the 
source  of  sweeter  pleasures,  and  holier  raptures  than 
the  eye  hath  seen,  or  the  ear  heard,  or  the  heart  dreamed. 

He  who  has  studied  the  past,  the  real  and  the  pure 
with  diligence — who  has  strayed  "by  the  flowery  brooks 
that  wash  the  hallowed  feet  of  Zion,"  has  made  no  un 
worthy  preparation  for  the  eventful  age  we  live  in.  An 
age  in  which  peace  and  war  alike,  shall,  have  their  vic 
tories. 

Some  great  transitional  period,  some  culminating 
point  in  secular  history,  or  prophetical  development 
seems  to  be  at  hand.  Extraordinary  indications  ;  signs 
in  the  heavens ;  the  expectations  of  the  church,  sug 
gest  such  an  opinion.  Distrust,  discontent,  and  impa- 
patience  of  restraint  pervade  society.  There  is  a  ten 
dency  to  social  and  political  disorganization.  There  is 
the  threatened  disruption  of  empires  and  republics. 
There  is  the  passionate  inclination  for  the  sword — the 
gathering  of  armies  and  navies — the  occasional  roar  of 
battle,  and  the  steady  preparation  for  universal  war. 
Such  opportunities,  such  incentives  to  good  and  evil, 
were  never  before  offered  to  ambition. 

But  whoever  would  discharge  his  duty,  must  have  a 
proper  estimate  of  his  powers — must  exercise  unflagging 


56  MISCELLANIES. 

patience  and  absorbing  energy — must  remember  that 
devotion  to  country  and  to  freedom,  are  cardinal  obliga 
tions — that  the  cause  of  truth  must  ultimately  triumph 
— that  the  temple  of  Virtue  is  always  the  vestibule  to 
the  temple  of  Glory. 


A  TRIP  IN  IRELAND. 

Having  landed  in  Belfast,  we  passed  through  a  fine 
district,  mostly  level,  sometimes  rough  and  rocky, 
through  Drogheda,  with  its  tall  towers  and  frowning 
gateway ;  across  the  Boyne,  once  stained  by  battle ; 
along  the  sea  shore  to  Dublin.  Here  is  one  of  the 
finest  streets  in  the  world,  wide,  straight,  and  lined 
with  elegant  houses.  At  one  end  is  Nelson's  pillar,  at 
the  other,  across  the  Liffey,  College  Green. 

The  way  was  crowded — there  were  ragged  men,  bare 
footed  women,  dirty  boys,  servants  and  constables  in 
livery,  gentlemen  mounted,  carriages  and  windows  filled 
with  handsome  ladies,  flags  flying  from  house  tops, 
arches  gilded  with  beautiful  devices  and  brave  words ; 
and  the  noise  of  the  surging  throng  was  like  the  roar 
of  a  distant  storm.  A  small  woman,  with  a  sharp, 
ruddy  face,  sat  in  a  vehicle,  bowing  on  both  sides  as 
she  passed.  It  was  the  British  Queen,  leaving  the  city 
amidst  the  curiosity  and  the  acclamations  of  the  Irish. 

We  spent  many  pleasant  days  in  this  interesting  cap 
ital,  teeming  with  wit  and  beauty. 

"A  Christian  before  baggage,"  said  the  conductor, 
as  he  cleared  me  a  seat  in  the  car.  We  passed  through 
a  valley  stretching  towards  the  horizon,  vast  and  even 
as  a  prairie.  The  harvest  was  ripe  for  the  sickle. 
The  oats  waved  their  luxuriant  tops  for  miles.  The 

(57) 


58  MISCELLANIES. 

barley,  with  its  streaming  beard,  flashed  like  silk  in 
the  sun.  The  reapers  were  already  "filling  their 
bosoms"  with  the  wheat,  and  here  and  there,  it  was 
heaped  together  like  stacks  of  gold.  The  meadows, 
fresh  with  living  grass,  were  feeding  armies  of  cattle. 
The  air  was  pure  and  sweet  as  morning.  Every  thing 
was  beautiful  and  joyous.  One  felt  glad  and  grateful, 
and  was  ready  to  cry  out — 

"  Oh !  Christ !  it  is  a  goodly  sight  to  see, 

What  heaven  hath  done  for  this  delicious  land !" 

But  the  panorama  moves  on,  and  the  picture  fades 
gradually  away.  The  scene  is  changed  to  a  dreary  flat, 
black  as  pitch,  as  if  it  had  been  charred  by  a  storm  of 
fire.  It  is  painfully  sterile,  without  a  bush  or  weed  in 
view.  It  is  one  of  the  bog  fields  with  its  treasures  of 
peat,  the  grave  of  forests  older,  as  my  Irish  neighbor 
said,  than  creation.  Trees  have  been  taken  out  ten 
and  twelve  feet  beneath  the  surface,  hard  and  tough  as 
metal.  But  the  soil  itself  is  fuel,  and  is  cut  with 
knives  in  the  shape  of  bricks,  which  are  piled  in  pyra 
mids  to  dry.  Huts  are  occasionally  seen  in  the  form 
of  mud  ovens,  some  with,  and  some  without  windows ; 
with  no  floor  but  the  ground,  and  no  chimney  but  the 
door.  In  such  places,  diseased,  destitute  and  desperate, 
many  wretched  creatures  live  and  die.  Some  of  them 
imputed  their  misfortune  to  that  terrible  visitation  of 
eighteen  forty-six,  which  (said  an  eye  witness)  lined 
the  road  sides  with  the  carrion  of  the  starved.  A 
woman,  coming  over  the  rugged  plain  in  her  fluttering 
rags,  seemed  like  the  very  genius  of  poverty.  She  had 
no  shoes,  no  bonnet,  and  her  hair  streamed  like  a  pen- 


A   TRIP   IN   IRELAND.  59 

nant ;  her  tall  figure  was  scarcely  half  clad  ;  her  voice 
was  plaintive  as  misery  itself,  as  she  asked  us — "A 
ha-penny  for  the  love  of  God;"  and  blessed  us  with  a 
beggar's  prayer. 

Every  stopping  place  in  the  south  and  west  was 
crowded  by  clamorous  mendicants — crippled,  blind,  de 
formed  and  sick.  There  was  a  mother  with  an  infant, 
whose  face  was  shriveled  as  if  by  age — a  man  without 
legs,  walking  on  his  hands — a  girl  disfigured  and  dis 
gusting  as  a  leper.  All  were  brown  with  accumulated 
filth,  and  patched  with  rags,  various  in  kind  and  color, 
hanging  about  them  loose  as  leaves. 

It  was  both  pitiable  and  picturesque,  and  affected  the 
imagination  and  the  heart.  One  was  entertained  by 
the  diversity  of  tatters,  features  and  condition;  but  it 
was  impossible  not  to  feel  the  conviction  of  want,  and 
the  necessity  of  alms. 

Our  course  came  at  last  to  a  still  wilder  country,  as 
we  approached  the  sea. 

Hills  rose  up,  covered  with  plantations  of  firs,  or  bare 
with  rocks,  or  crowned  with  the  ivied  walls  of  old  feudal 
castles.  Here  and  there  was  an  old  abbey  on  the 
plain  ;  or  a  "  round  tower"  eighty  feet  high,  distracting 
the  learned  with  the  mystery  of  its  origin  and  purpose. 
We  went  through  a  little  village,  a  few  hovels  were  on 
the  wayside.  The  children  were  playing  in  the  pud 
dles  ;  the  doors  were  open  ;  and  the  pig  walked  in  and 
out  with  the  authority  of  a  proprietor  or  partner, 
"switching  his  tail,  as  a  gentleman  switches  his  cane." 
He  has  the  freedom  of  the  cot,  as  other  benefactors 
have  the  freedom  of  a  city. 


60  MISCELLANIES. 

The  cholera,  raging  violently  in  Cork,  prevented  an 
extended  stay  in  that  city,  celebrated  for  its  harbor  and 
its  markets, 

«  And  its  bells  of  Shandon, 
That  sound  so  grand  on  - 
The  pleasant  waters 

Of  the  river  Lee." 

Kinsale  is  one  of  the  old  towns,  with  narrow  streets, 
a  Spanish  ruin,  and  a  battle  field.  Cork  was  once  de 
scribed  as  being  near  to  it.  The  description  is  now 
reversed. 

The  first  Lord  Kinsale  gave  his  name  to  the  place. 
It  is  said  that  in  a  trial  of  strength,  he  drew  the  sabre 
of  his  adversary  from  the  log,  and  buried  his  own  so 
deep,  that  no  one  but  himself  could  remove  it. 

He  was  then,  as  the  King's  champion,  authorized  to 
make  any  three  demands.  Accordingly  he  was  allowed 
to  wear  his  hat  in  the  King's  presence — to  have  a  plate 
and  stool  placed  for  him  every  day  at  the  King's  table 
— to  have  in  fee  all  the  land  he  could,  in  one  day,  ride 
over  on  horseback.  He,  however,  traversed  only  five 
or  six  miles,  as  some  of  his  enemies  got  him  intoxicated 
at  Ballanspittle,  which  fixed  at  once,  the  limits  of  his 
excursion  and  estate. 

Not  far  from  the  town,  are  the  mansions  of  J.  Red 
mond  Barry  and  J.  B.  Gibbons,  Esquires,  whose  houses, 
like  "Marathon,  look  on  the  sea."  They  were  most  hos 
pitable,  and  declared :  "  that  during  the  famine,  the  Ches 
ter  county  donation  of  meal  was  the  best  which  came 
to  Ireland,  and  that  it  saved  a  thousand  lives."  The 
destitution  had  been  frightful ;  there  was  neither  food 
nor  money ;  the  people  were  terror  stricken,  and  these 


A  TRIP   IN   IRELAND.  61 

provisions  arrived  at  the  very  crisis  of  the  calamity. 
For  this  timely  succor,  the  Irish  of  Ballanspittle  will 
ever  gratefully  remember  the  county  of  Chester. 

Those  gentlemen,  years  ago,  had  been  extremely  kind, 
when  the  good  ship,  Albion,  was  wrecked  upon  their 
coast.  They  showed  me  the  scene  of  that  disaster ; 
and  the  rock  from  which  my  father,  the  only  cabin 
passenger  saved,  was  hoisted  to  the  bank.  It  is  a  peri 
lous  place,  even  in  fair  weather ;  the  waves  wash  over 
it ;  and  the  iron  sides  of  the  shore,  bare  and  precipitous 
to  a  prodigious  depth,  make  it  fearful, 

"  And  dizzy    *    •    •    to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low." 


SHAM  SMUGGLER 

The  following  incident  which  happened  to  Mr.  B.,  as 
he  arrived  in  London,  illustrates  some  of  the  tricks  of 
swindlers. 

He  was  gazing  about  the  Tower,  musing  on  the  histori 
cal  crimes  and  sufferings,  of  which  that  London  Bastile 
had  been  the  scene.  A  person  dressed  like  a  sailor, 
came  up,  saying  :  "  Excuse  me  sir,  would  you  like  to  buy 
some  real  Havana  segars  ?"  Such  applications  had  been 
disregarded  before  ;  but  as  he  mentioned  the  word  dol 
lars,  and  asserted  himself  an  American  from  Bangor  ; 
B.,  with  a  throb  of  patriotism,  and  an  appetite  in  the 
premises,  went  with  him.  They  crossed  several  streets, 
through  by-ways,  and  a  dingy  court,  and  a  sort  of  bar 
room,  into  a  small  private  chamber,  furnished  with  a  red 
bench  and  table.  The  establishment  was  the  resort  of 
the  lowest  order  of  society. 

Having  bought  a  handful  of  segars,  he  was  about  leav 
ing,  when  the  other  called  in  a  comrade  with  a  sinister 
eye,  rough  red  hair,  and  the  complexion  of  a  convict. 
This  individual  represented  that  he  had  lately  landed 
from  China,  after  a  long  voyage ;  that  he  had  spent  his 
funds  ;  owed  for  board  ;  and  desired  therefore  to  sell  a 
soft  white  cashmere  shawl,  which,  with  other  things,  he 
had  purchased  in  Canton  for  his  sister.  On  account  of 
his  importunities,  and  as  he  would  certainly  refuse  such 

(62) 


SHAM   SMUGGLERS.  63 

a  trifle,  B.,  offered  him  two  pounds  for  it.  Considering 
that  he  asked  fifteen,  the  former  was  astonished  at  the 
alacrity  with  which  he  sacrificed  the  difference.  They 
then  entered,  by  a  crooked  alley,  another  place  which 
seemed  like  a  depot,  ^for  stolen  goods ;  where  getting 
silver  for  a  note  B.  paid  him.  The  other  then  immedi 
ately  wanted  to  sell  for  the  same  sum,  a  similar  shawl, 
a  dozen  linen  handkerchiefs,  a  silk  vest  pattern,  and  a 
gold  chain  wrapt  in  a  rag.  Without  examining  the 
articles ;  without  any  use  for  them ;  with  a  growing 
suspicion  that  the  fellow  was  a  smuggler  ;  with  some 
sympathy  for  his  well  acted  distress,  and  much  impati 
ence  to  get  away;  B.  paid  the  price,  crammed  them 
in  his  hat  and  pockets,  and  resolutely  left.  When  he 
was  ruminating  in  his  lodgings  on  the  fatuity  with  which 
he  had  been  decoyed  into  quarters  not  very  safe,  and  into 
a  purchase  of  doubtful  propriety  ;  he  noticed  that  the  rag 
around  the  watch  guard  was  stained  with  blood.  He 
was  confounded  by  the  discovery — by  the  horrible  asso 
ciation  of  blood  and  gold — by  the  predicament  in  which 
it  placed  him.  Every  circumstance  which  he  could  re 
call,  confirmed  the  worst  conjectures.  That  mean  ruffian 
face,  those  vile  haunts,  the  rich  stuffs,  the  paltry  price, 
the  absurd  story,  came  up  like  witnesses  of  crime.  Some 
cruel  murder  must  have  made  those  fatal  stains.  These 
pretended  sailors  must  be  some  obdurate  villains,  who 
had  slain  and  plundered.  These  articles  were  the  spoils 
of  guilt.  This  unwitnessed  purchase  relieved  them,  and 
imposed  on  him  the  responsibility  of  possession.  He 
felt  instantly  that  he  was  burthened  with  all  the  conse 
quences  of  the  transaction.  He  alone  perhaps,  had  the 
evidence  of  some  vile  deed. 


64  MISCELLANIES. 

It  was  a  miserable  secret.  Like  the  Spartan's  fox,  it 
could  not  be  exposed  without  shame,  nor  concealed 
without  distress.  Silence  would  make  him  a  wilful  ac 
complice — publication  might  cause  him  to  be  accused  as 
one.  w 

He  had  no  friend  to  consult.  He  could  not  trust  a 
stranger.  A  magistrate  could  not  be  informed  without 
detaining  him  as  a  prisoner  or  a  witness.  Yet  the  of 
fence  must  soon  be  discovered ;  the  parties  perhaps 
arrested.  He  would  then  be  implicated,  described, 
advertised  as  a  criminal,  pursued  by  the  police. 

Embarrassed  by  these  reflections,  he  searched  the 
newspapers  for  some  clue  to  the  mystery.  For  days  he 
did  not  venture  into  the  street,  lest  he  might  be  recog 
nized.  He  feared  every  ring  of  the  bell,  and  every  sound 
on  the  stairs. 

At  one  time  he  intended  to  communicate  the  affair  to 
the  Times,  but  weeks  might  elapse  without  an  answer. 
At  last  he  inclosed  the  articles  with  an  anonymous  note 
to  a  bailiff,  and  at  dusk  went  cautiously  out  to  mail  them. 
But  the  scheme  failed,  the  package  was  too  large  to  be 
admitted  into  the  post  box  ;  and  disappointed  he  returned 
to  a  restless  pillow  and  to  evil  dreams.  Nearly  a  week  had 
been  lost.  Anxiety  had  preyed  upon  his  spirits,  and 
disturbed  his  health.  On  another  evening  however, 
after  the  usual  hour  of  rest,  he  arranged  the  package 
under  his  coat,  and  wandered  forth  to  throw  it  into  some 
basement  window  or  balcony.  He  envied  as  he  passed 
numerous  parties,  who  yet  lingered,  laughing  and  chat 
ting  beneath  the  bright  gas  and  stars.  Weary  and  nervous, 
searching  for  a  spot  where  he  could  deposit  the  bundle 
unseen,  he  went  on  for  squares.  He  had  reached  a 


SHAM    SMUGGLERS.  65 

building  with  an  iron  inclosure  in  front ;  and  as  no  one 
was  in  sight,  he  was  about  to  toss  the  package  behind 
it.  Just  then  a  person  stepped  suddenly  around  the 
corner,  and  gazed  on  him  carefully.  He  had  observed 
the  same  one  soon  after  he  started  out ;  he  was  manifest 
ly  a  policeman  in  plain  clothes,  who  had  been  attracted 
by  his  manner,  ot  the  distended  appearance  of  his  coat. 
Hurrying  forward  he  knew  not  whither,  through  lanes 
and  cross  streets,  perspiring  with  exercise  and  emotion, 
he  came  at  length  to  an  unfrequented  place  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  city.  He  breathed  more  freely,  he  was 
congratulating  himself  on  success,  rebuking  himself  for 
idle  fears ;  when  hearing  steps  behind,  he  turned,  and 
beheld,  with  increased  alarm,  the  same  person. 

He  immediately  determined  to  return  to  his  lodgings. 
Taking  a  circuitous  direction,  he  hastened  along  without 
stopping,  faint  and  weary,  for  a  mile  or  more.  It  was 
midnight ;  and  avoiding  as  much  as  possible  the  regular 
watchmen,  he  chose  the  most  dimly  lighted  streets. 
The  silence  was  only  broken  by  his  own  foot-fall,  echoing 
loud  enough,  it  seemed  to  wake  the  city.  He  was 
ignorant  of  his  bearings,  until  he  found  himself  before 
the  frowning  walls  of  Newgate  prison.  The  grated 
windows  and  dull  gray  stones  almost  made  him  shudder, 
as  they  appeared  to  look  down  with  a  kind  of  ominous 
triumph. 

Turning  aside  again  into  the  first  alley,  he  was  soon 
crossing  a  deep  trench,  lately  dug  for  a  sewer.  The 
distant  lantern  shed  a  dull  twilight  over  it.  Tempted 
by  this  fortunate  opportunity,  he  was  hesitating  again, 
when  the  shadow  of  some  one  attracted  his  notice.  His 
pursuer  had  stopped  near  the  light,  and  cast  a  menacing 


66  MISCELLANIES. 

look  upon  him  as  he  passed.  He  followed  him  then 
directly ;  was  always  near  him  ;  sometimes  behind,  some 
times  before  him  ;  halted  when  he  did  ;  walked  slow  and 
fast  as  he  did  ;  and  eyed  him  with  insolence.  Self  respect 
could  endure  no  more  ;  and  B.  then  turned  and  advanced 
upon  him  with  resolution  and  defiance.  The  watcher 
retired,  believed  himself  mistaken  and  disappeared.  B, 
got  back  to  his  room,  unmolested  but  unsuccessful. 
His  last  adventure  was  dangerous  indeed.  Had  he 
been  seen  throwing  away  that  package,  his  worst  fears 
would  have  been  realized.  It  would  have  been  impos 
sible  to  have  satisfied  the  witness  of  his  innocence  ; 
and  for  that  night  at  least,  perhaps  for  many  others, 
he  must  have  endured  a  prison. 

Though  exhausted  and  prostrated,  he  retired  with  some 
satisfaction,  for  having  escaped  the  consequence  of  this 
blundering  excursion. 

Another  morning  still  found  him  in  possession  of  the 
cursed  purchase,  which  seemed  to  cleave  to  him  like  the 
fabled  gift  of  Nessus.  Defeated  in  all  his  plans,  his 
distress  noticed  by  his  landlord,  he  on  inquiry  divulged 
to  him  at  once  all  the  facts.  Having  called  his  wife, 
they  looked  at  the  articles,  asked  the  cost,  and  to  his 
surprise  and  relief,  burst  out  a  laughing.  These  shawls 
were  made  in  Manchester,  and  the  price  is  seven  shil 
lings — these  handkerchiefs  are  cotton — this  vesting  is 
not  silk — this  light  chain  is  galvanized  brass — this  rag  is 
stained  on  purpose. 

Those  men  were  the  agents  of  swindling  shops  ;  they 
take  such  methods  to  make  an  impression  that  their 
articles  are  cheap.  It  seems  they  study  human  nature 
closely.  They  play  upon  the  imagination.  They  invest 


SHAM   SMUGGLERS.  67 

their  dealings  with  a  degree  of  mystery,  to  excite  an 
interest.  They  assume  to  be  sailors  in  order  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  attractions  of  that  character.  They 
trust  to  the  natural  sympathy  of  landsmen  for  those  who 
brave  the  seas.  They  rely  on  the  universal  love  of  ro 
mance  ;  on  that  fascination  which  attaches  to  a  reckless 
heroism,  by  which  the  smuggler's  offence  is  overshadowed 
by  his  courage  and  his  perils.  They  elicit  one's  con 
fidence  by  silently  depending  on  his  honor.  They  make 
him  a  customer  by  adroitly  enlisting  his  sensibilities. 
Thus  was  he  beguiled.  He  was  yet  glad  to  know  that 
none  had  been  injured  but  himself.  That  fact  lifted  a 
burthen  from  his  conscience.  It  was  like  the  cheerful 
daylight  dispelling  a  dreadful  dream. 


PARIS. 

Some  years  ago,  while  in  Paris,  my  window  fronted 
on  the  Boulevards.  That  street  is  an  entertaining  show. 
The  throng  pours  incessantly  along,  exhaustless  as  a 
river,  promiscuous  as  a  world.  On  they  move — far  up, 
far  down — all  day,  all  night — fast  and  slow — crossing, 
turning,  passing — interminable  as  a  circle — a  proces 
sion  without  a  van,  and  without  a  rear.  All  classes  and 
characters — infants  and  women,  dotards  and  cripples, 
traders  and  travellers,  rogues  and  Christians,  mingled 
together,  on  foot,  on  horses,  in  vehicles — laughing, 
talking,  dreaming ;  seeking  pleasure,  money,  knowledge, 
mischief,  fame.  The  policeman  with  blue  uniform, 
white  buttons,  moustache,  cocked  hat,  sword  and  the 
conscious  air  of  office.  Soldiers  in  different  garbs, 
colored  like  the  spirits  in  the  play,  marching  in  bat 
talions,  or  strolling  in  couples,  listless  as  children. 
Political  aspirants,  speculating  on  place  and  suffrage, 
on  times  and  seasons.  Legitimists,  praying  for  the  day 
which  should  crown  the  lineal  Bourbon.  Socialists, 
panting  for  the  triumph  of  the  blouses  and  the  barri 
cades.  Orleanists,  scheming  to  re-build  the  constitu 
tional  throne.  Bonapartists,  anticipating  the  restora 
tion  of  the  Empire.  True  Republicans,  fearing,  with 
good  reason,  that  those  liberty  trees  at  the  corners 
would  bear  no  fruit,  that  "their  roots  would  wither, 

(68) 


PARIS.  69 

and  their  blossoms  go  up  as  dust."  There  is  the  flower 
girl  with  her  gipsey  hat  and  olive  face,  singing  and 
selling  her  fragrant  wares. 

There  goes  the  Englishman,  stout  and  ruddy  from 
ale  and  beefsteak,  with  his  guide  book  and  um 
brella,  essential  as  his  clothes.  The  American,  all 
in  black,  with  segar  and  cane — still  vain  of  his 
own  Republic.  The  German,  with  heavy  brow  and 
beard,  perhaps  a  fugitive  scholar  from  Bonn  or  Hei 
delberg.  The  Jew,  still  unfairly  described  as  faith 
ful  to  his  Sabbath  and  to  Mammon,  ready  to  bargain 
with  kings  or  thieves.  The  solemn  Moslem,  in  his  tur 
ban  and  flowing  robes.  The  negro,  with  tangled  hair 
and  "trimly  dressed,"  perhaps  a  colonial  representative 
of  France.  The  Priest,  in  dark  gown  and  upturned 
chapeau — the  sister,  with  her  beads  and  silver  cross — 
the  student,  in  his  semi-military  coat — the  seamstress, 
without  a  bonnet — the  hackman,  with  a  gilded  band 
upon  his  hat — the  porter,  with  a  medal — the  postman, 
with  leathern  sack  and  crimson  collar — the  laborer,  in 
blue  shirt — the  dandy,  in  white  vest — the  mourner,  in 
her  weeds. 

They  are  wending  in  all  directions,  on  the  wide  pave 
ment,  beneath  the  arching  trees,  by  the  tall  white 
houses,  by  the  shop  windows  brilliant  with  jewelry 
and  glass  ;  by  stalls  filled  with  pictures  of  the  Empire 
and  Napoleon  ;  by  restaurants  and  cafes,  where  women 
are  clerks,  and  both  sexes  feed  on  scientific  soups,  or 
indulge  in  smoke,  coffee  and  cogniac ;  by  the  monu 
mental  gates  of  Saint  Martin  and  Saint  Denis,  asso 
ciated  with  foreign  victories  and  the  barricades  ;  by  the 
classic  columns  of  La  Madeline,  designed  for  glory  and 


70  MISCELLANIES. 

appropriated  to  religion.  Towards  the  Place  Vendome, 
and  its  shaft  of  captured  cannon,  pictured  with  battles, 
and  crowned  with  a  colossal  figure  of  the  Emperor  in 
his  favorite  costume  ;  towards  the  Place  de  la  Concorde, 
once  stained  with  royal  blood,  now  adorned  with  exotic 
flowers,  with  lanterns  and  fountains,  and  a  monolith 
from  Thebes ;  towards  the  Champs  Elysees,  animated 
with  spectacles,  and  games,  and  music,  and  merry  as  a 
fair.  To  the  marble  arc  of  triumph,  sculptured  with  the 
martial  history  of  the  nation  ;  to  the  Champs  de  Mars, 
the  scene  of  political  festivals,  and  the  sham-fights  and 
reviews  of  armies ;  to  the  Hospital  of  Invalids,  where 
the  scarred  veterans  guard  the  dust  of  their  great  cap 
tain  ;  to  the  National  Assembly,  to  hear  the  historian 
of  the  consulate,  or  a  greater,  the  historian  of  the 
Gironde.  To  the  Bourse,  within  whose  half  a  hundred 
Corinthian  columns,  blind  fortune  turns  her  delusive 
wheel ;  to  the  Palaces,  with  their  sumptuous  furniture 
and  innumerable  decorations  of  art  and  curiosity ;  to 
the  Court,  where  M.  Berryer  enchains  his  listeners  with 
rare  eloquence ;  to  the  Conciergerie,  whose  gloomy 
gates  closed  on  Marie  Antoinette,  and  whose  tocsin 
sounded  the  fatal  eve  of  St.  Bartholomew ;  to  the  Pan 
theon,  suggested  by  a  woman,  sacred  to  the  great,  con 
taining  the  tombs  of  Lannes,  of  Rousseau,  of  Voltaire ; 
to  Notre  Dame,  where  the  captive  Pope  crowned  the 
soldier  of  fortune.  To  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  Robe 
spierre  held  his  councils — where  poor  Louis  assumed 
the  red  cap — where  La  Fayette  presented  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  to  the  people — where  Lamartine  with  words  of 
inspiration  exorcised  the  fury  of  the  mob.  To  the  eques 
trian  statue  of  the  great  Henry,  on  the  spot  where 


PARIS.  71 

templars  were  burned  for  sorcery ;  to  the  remains  of 
the  Temple,  once  a  stronghold  of  crusaders,  and  the  last 
prison  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth ;  to  the  Garden  of  Plants, 
enriched  by  Buffon,  Cuvier,  and  others,  with  specimens 
from  every  department  of  natural  history  ;  to  the  metal 
column  of  July,  over  the  site  of  the  Bastile,  and  the 
bones  of  its  destroyers ;  to  La  Morgue,  to  see  the  last 
corpse  found  in  the  street,  or  in  the  Seine  ;  to  the  news 
room,  to  read  the  last  page  of  history. 


JUDGE  STORY. 

Omnes  ex  omni  cetate,  qui  in  Jiac  civitate  intelligentiam 
juris  habuerunt,  si  unum  in  locum  conferantur,  cum  eo 
non  sunt  comparandi. — Cic. 

.Judge  Story  was  of  moderate  height,  with  regular 
features,  and  an  amiable  expression  of  countenance. 
His  forehead  was  broad  and  high,  and  increased  by  his 
baldness.  His  nose  was  slightly  aquiline,  his  cheeks 
neither  lank  nor  full,  his  mouth  handsome  ;  the  little 
hair  on  his  temples  was  of  a  sandy  color,  and  his  com 
plexion  of  a  sanguine  hue.  His  head  was  compact  and 
symmetrical.  He  was  very  active.  His  step  was  quick 
— he  drove  fast — he  was  always  in  a  hurry,  and  yet 
always  unaffectedly  courteous.  His  presence  inspired 
cheerfulness,  and  you  could  see  gratification  in  every 
face,  the  moment  he  appeared.  He  was  extremely  fas 
cinating  to  young  men.  He  met  them  with  a  sweet 
smile  and  a  kind  voice.  He  grasped  both  their  hands, 
with  a  warm  pressure.  Sometimes  he  would  lay  his 
arm  on  one's  shoulder. 

He  was  an  incomparable  law  lecturer ;  all  the  variety 
of  an  intellectual  entertainment  he  shed  over  that  dry 
subject.  He  scarcely  got  seated  before  he  commenced  ; 
and  without  notes,  continued  in  a  delightful,  flowing 
manner,  retaining  universal  attention  till  he  closed. 

(72) 


JUDGE   STORY.  73 

His  discourse  teemed  with  humorous  anecdotes,  and 
literature.  When  something  recalled  to  his  mind  an 
incident  at  the  the  bar,  or  a  peculiarity  of  a  great  charac 
ter,  he  would  describe  a  scene  or  a  speech,  or  repeat  a 
sentence  or  a  gesture,  with  enthusiasm.  Sometimes 
becoming  excited  by  the  course  of  his  thoughts,  he 
grew  theatrical,  gesticulated  with  vehemence,  partly 
rose  from  his  seat,  and  spoke  with  wonderful  rapidity 
and  eloquence. 

Devoted  to  the  law,  he  was  fond  of  light  reading. 

He  referred  to  himself  (which  he  seldom  did)  as  hav 
ing  written  verses,  when  he  was  young,  but  no  poetry. 
He  excused  himself  once  for  not  being  punctual,  by 
saying ;  that  he  was  unconsciously  delayed  by  an  inter 
esting  article  in  Blackwood.  He  told,  with  some  proper 
pride,  that,  when  in  the  Massachusetts  Legislature,  he 
was  instrumental  in  increasing  the  salary  of  Chief  Jus 
tice  Parsons,  whose  judicial  ability  he  could  hardly 
sufficiently  praise. 

And  he  assumed  reasonable  credit  for  having  done 
his  duty,  in  deciding  the  first  cause  before  him,  against 
the  influence  of  the  government,  which  placed  him  at 
thirty-three  years  of  age,  on  the  Supreme  Bench  of  the 
United  States. 

One  day,  when  interrupted  in  his  lecture  by  the 
passing  of  a  volunteer  company,  with  a  band  of  music, 
he  good  humoredly  said  from  Cicero — "  Silent  leges  in 
ter  arma."  He  frequently  referred,  with  admiration, 
to  the  gigantic  mind  of  Jeremiah  Mason ;  of  whom 
Webster  said,  dig  as  deep  as  you  will,  Jerry  will  dig 
deeper.  He  lamented  the  death,  at  an  early  age,  of 
Hugh  Legare,  of  South  Carolina,  whom  he  considered 

7 


74  MISCELLANIES. 

a  ripe  scholar,  and  the  best  civil  lawyer  at  the  American 
bar. 

He  remarked  that  a  lawyer's  first  duty  was  to  his 
God,  the  next  to  the  law,  the  next  to  his  client. 

He  said  Luther  Martin  distinguished  himself  in  the 
trial  of  Judge  Chase,  before  the  Senate.  That  when 
he  came  to  reply  to  John  Randolph,  a  splendid  orator, 
but  no  lawyer,  and  who  was  chief  manager  of  the  im 
peachment  for  the  House  of  Representatives ;  he  utterly 
scattered  and  demolished  all  his  positions.  And  so  the 
lawyers,  succeeded  then  just  as  Mr.  Law  and  others  did 
in  the  trial  of  Hastings.  Judge  Story  said  he  studied 
law  under  Chief  Justice  Sewall,  who  told  him  that 
whenever  he  had  a  cause  of  importance,  he  commenced 
his  investigations  with  Blackstone. 

He  said  of  William  Pinckney,  of  Maryland  ;  that  he 
was  very  attentive  to  dress,  generally  carried  a  switch, 
wore  tights  and  gloves,  and  came  in  that  style  into 
Court.  That  he  appeared  anxious  to  avoid  the  reputa 
tion  of  having  studied ;  and  on  the  evening  before  he 
had  a  cause  to  argue,  generally  contrived  to  attend,  for 
a  while,  some  entertainment ;  and  afterwards  devoted 
the  rest  of  the  night  to  his  preparation.  But  yet  to  a 
friend  who  expostulated  with  him  on  his  injurious  atten 
tion  to  business,  he  replied;  that  "  it  was  only  by  great 
labor  he  had  won  his  position  at  the  Bar — that  it  was 
dearer  to  him  than  life,  and  ;  "By  G-d  !  he  would  die  to 
maintain  it." 

Pinckney  was  but  a  boy  when  Judge  Chase  took  him 
into  his  office  ;  and  when  he  was  sent  by  Washington 
as  Commissioner  to  England,  he  attended  the  Courts  of 
Westminster  for  six  years.  On  one  occasion,  in  com- 


JUDGE    STORY.  75 

pany,  and  not  knowing  Greek,  he  was  quite  confounded 
by  an  argument  respecting  a  passage  in  Euripides. 
From  that  time  he  studied  the  classics.  He  had  a  won 
derful  memory,  and  mastered  every  subject  he  touched. 
He  was  learned  in  every  branch  of  the  law.  He  had  a 
guttural  voice,  but  the  most  beautiful  and  peculiarly 
expressive  diction. 

He  was  an  honest  lawyer — to  the  court,  the  law  and 
his  client.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  remarked  to  him 
(Story)  that  Pinckney  was  the  most  powerful  reasoner 
he  ever  met. 

One  day  Judge  Story  said  of  Judge  Chase,  that  he 
was  a  large,  broad,  six  foot  man,  for  all  the  world  like 
Dr.  Johnson ;  gruff  and  impatient  of  long  arguments. 
A  lawyer  once  said  to  him,  "I  am  going  to  make  five 
points."  "Good  G-d !"  exclaimed  Judge  Chase,  "five 
points!"  After  hearing  them,  he  said,  "they are  good 
for  nothing,"  and  would  allow  only  two  of  them  to  be 
discussed.  Another  time*,  he  dismissed  all  the  points, 
and  decided  in  favor  of  the  counsel  on  a  ground  he  had 
not  noticed.  Once  Luther  Martin  convinced  him  of  an 
error.  He  had  a  far  reaching  perception,  and  saw  con 
clusions  at  a  glance.  At  Washington,  when  I  (Judge 
Story)  was  a  young  man,  I  boarded  with  him.  On 
leaving,  he  took  hold  of  my  hands  and  said :  "  I  would 
that  I  had  seen  more  of  you,  or  had  never  seen  you," 
and  burst  into  tears. 

Another  time,  Judge  Story  described  Chief  Justice 
Parsons,  of  Massachusetts,  as  one  of  the  greatest 
judges ;  he  was  at  home  in  the  sciences  ;  had  a  famous 
wit,  which  enlightened,  but  never  scorched  ;  and  was 
fond  of  ladies'  company,  who  admired  him,  though  he 


76  MISCELLANIES. 

was  by  no  means  handsome.  Like  Chief  Justice  Mar 
shall,  who  was  the  closest  reasoner  I  (Judge  Story)  ever 
met;  he  loved  novels,  and  found  as  much  pleasure  in  the 
law  as  in  a  romance,  and  as  much  pleasure  in  a  romance 
as  in  the  law. 

Another  day,  Judge  Story  speaking  of  the  Girard 
case,  in  which  he  had  delivered  the  judgment  of  the 
Court,  said:  "  Mr.  H.  Binney  was  perfect  master  of  the 
subject.  He  had  been,  perhaps,  studying  it  for  a  year; 
had  long  before  given  an  opinion  in  favor  of  the  validity 
of  the  will.  He  came  to  the  task  incited,  no  doubt,  by 
the  desire  of  sustaining  his  former  conclusion ;  and  by 
the  fact  of  having  to  contend  against  one  of  the  first 
minds  of  the  age — in  the  highest  tribunal  of  the  land." 
Mr.  Webster  represented  the  heirs.  The  Judge,  in 
illustration  of  Mr.  Binney 's  thoroughness  of  preparation, 
said  he  himself  had  discovered  certain  reports  of  cases 
very  pertinent  to  the  gist  of  the  cause ;  and  which  he 
thought  no  one  but  himself  had  noticed,  and  took  them 
to  his  room  to  look  over.  Mr.  Binney,  however,  in 
quired  of  the  Librarian  for  the  book,  who  directed  him 
to  Judge  Story,  as  most  likely  to  have  any  stray 
volume.  The  reading  of  these  reports  took  Mr.  Web 
ster  by  surprise.  Both  Mr.  Binney  and  Mr.  Webster, 
he  said,  made  great  speeches,  worthy  of  Westminster 
Hall  in  her  best  days.  But  Mr.  Binney  delivered  the 
law  argument ;  which  answered  all  the  requirements  of 
criticism,  satisfied  the  highest  legal  taste,  and  influenced 
the  result.  While  part  of  it,  which  lasted  for  about  a 
half  of  an  hour,  was  so  finished  and  beautiful,  so  sub 
dued  and  powerful,  that  the  Judges,  after  he  concluded 
it,  looked  at  one  another  and  smiled.  He  added,  that 


JUDGE   STORY.  77 

it  must  have  certainly  been  written  and  committed  to 
memory. 

Judge  Story,  at  another  time,  alluded  to  Alexander 
Hamilton  as  an  extraordinary  man ;  one  of  the  great 
intellects  in  history  ;  capable  of  resolving  the  most 
important  questions,  and  happily  qualified  for  the  in 
auguration  of  a  new  government.  When  General 
Washington  had  some  scruples  as  to  the  constitution 
ality  of  a  United  States  Bank,  he  applied  to  Hamilton 
to  remove  them.  The  President  then  lived  in  Phila 
delphia,  and  his  Secretary  went  to  the  house  of  William 
Lewis,  an  eminent  lawyer  in  the  height  of  his  fame. 
Having  stated  the  object  of  his  visit,  they  stepped  out 
to  Mr.  Lewis'  garden,  and  in  a  peripatetic  consultation, 
enduring  the  afternoon,  weighed  the  question  in  all  its 
possible  relations.  Hamilton  then  returned  home,  ask 
ed  his  wife  for  a  cup  of  strong  coffee,  as  he  intended  to 
sit  up  all  night.  The  next  morning,  he  handed  the 
President  a  written  argument,  sustaining  the  constitu 
tionality  of  the  Bank,  which  was  satisfactory.  There 
has  been,  continued  the  Judge,  nothing  since  said  or 
written  on  that  subject ;  on  the  bench,  or  at  the  bar,  in 
Congress,  or  in  newspapers,  which  is  not  contained  in 
that  narcotic  and  nocturnal  paper  of  Alexander  Hamil 
ton. 

The  Judge  once  spoke  of  the  elder  John  Adams  as  a 
lawyer ;  who,  when  Vice  President,  was  appealed  to  for 
his  opinion  on  the  force  of  the  "common  law"  in  this 
country.  He  at  once  declared  that  it  existed  of  neces 
sity.  That  as  far  as  consistent  with  our  condition,  it 
was  operative  of  course,  for  it  was  assumed  as  the  basis 
of  our  legislation. 


78  MISCELLANIES. 

On  another  occasion  the  Judge  referred  to  the  Dart 
mouth  College  case,  which  excited  very  general  interest. 
Mr.  Webster,  said  he,  who  wields  the  club  of  Hercules 
entwined  with  flowers  ;  appeared  then  for  the  first  time 
in  the  Supreme  Court.  His  fame  preceded  him.  Wil 
liam  Wirt  was  his  opponent,  "arcades  ambo."  The 
Court  room  was  filled  with  the  aristocracy  of  office, 
talent,  beauty  and  gallantry,  such  as  the  Capital  of  the 
country  could  furnish — soldiers  who  had  been  in  battle — 
Ambassadors  from  Europe — members  of  the  Cabinet — 
members  of  Congress — and  elegant  women  who  crowded 
around  the  sitting  Judges,  and  almost  allured  them  from 
their  dignity  and  their  chairs.  When  Mr.  Webster 
rose,  he  began  in  a  low  tone,  and  said  ;  that  he  appeared 
in  behalf  of  a  poor  Indian  School ;  to  repay  the  debt  of 
gratitude  imposed  upon  his  youth  ;  and  to  use  in  defence 
of  his  Alma  Mater  the  arms  she  gave  him.  He  then 
went  on,  gradually  increasing  in  energy  and  eloquence ; 
his  voice  growing  clearer  and  deeper ;  his  gestures  be 
coming  more  animated ;  his  face  more  expressive  ;  his 
language  more  passionate.  The  veins  upon  his  forehead 
swelled  like  cords  ;  his  eyes  flashed  fire  ;  his  whole  body 
seemed  possessed  by  his  awakened  genius ;  his  spirit 
pervaded  the  hall  like  a  superior  influence ;  and  he  car 
ried  away  the  Judges,  the  Bar  and  the  crowd  ;  left  nearly 
every  eye  in  tears ;  while  one  military  man  blubbered 
right  out.  Mr.  Wirt  had  attempted  to  take  notes,  but 
his  susceptibilities  were  overcome  ;  he  repeatedly  threw 
the  pen  down,  and  at  last  in  despair,  lifting  up  his  head 
towards  the  speaker ;  resigned  himself  to  the  irresistible 
spell,  When  he  came  to  reply  ;  he  confessed  that  he 
had  some  points  in  the  cause,  some  plan  of  discourse,  but 


JUDGE   STORY.  79 

that  the  gentleman's  eloquence  had  thrown  him  into 
confusion.  After  this  handsome  tribute  he  made  a 
glorious  argument  himself. 


SWITZERLAND. 

Basle,  with  intricate  streets  and  pleasant  fountains, 
and  ancient  gateways,  looks  down  upon  the  Rhine. 
The  inhabitants  once  had  scriptural  texts  over  their 
doors ;  were  compelled  to  dress  in  black  on  Sunday ; 
and  had  their  clocks  one  hour  in  advance  of  all  others. 
They  speak  French  and  German,  live  in  houses  with 
garrets  of  four  and  five  stories  high ;  show  the  auto 
graph  of  Luther,  the  dwelling  of  Erasmus,  and  the  pic 
tures  of  Holbein. 

Our  route  lay  hence  along  the  river,  by  pear  and  ap 
ple  orchards,  and  fields  of  sprouting  grain — by  timbered 
mountains,  colored  like  tapestry,  with  autumn  leaves. 
Thence  by  plains,  where  men  drove  huge  cows,  hitched 
by  ropes,  to  wooden  harrows,  and  to  ploughs  with 
wheels.  By  vine  clad  slopes,  animated  with  the  labors 
of  the  vintage.  Women,  in  bare  arms  and  red  hoods, 
gathered  the  grapes  in  deep  baskets,  strapped,  like 
knapsacks,  to  their  shoulders ;  and  wagons,  laden  with 
the  purple  harvest,  were  hauled,  amidst  songs  and  shout 
ing,  to  the  wine  press.  Farther  on,  the  landscape  em 
braced  new  features.  There  was  a  cultivated  valley — 
three  winding  rivers  pouring  their  waters  into  one — the 
town  of  Brugg,  with  its  lofty  walls  and  conical  towers — 
the  Abbey  of  Koenigsfeld,  with  its  enclosure,  like  a 
city — the  ruined  castle  of  the  first  of  the  Habsburgs — 

(80) 


SWITZERLAND.  81 

and  girding  them  all,  high  as  the  clouds,  far  around  as 
half  the  horizon,  crowned  with  ice,  and  glittering  like  a 
silver  zone  in  the  sunset,  rose  the  eternal  Alps.  We 
watched  the  enkindling  scene  till  it  disappeared  with 
the  day. 

The  next  afternoon  we  were  climbing,  amongst  va 
grant  cows  and  courteous  citizens,  the  steep,  crooked, 
narrow  streets  of  Zurich.  The  eaves  of  the  tall  houses 
overhang  like  porticos.  Spires  abound,  painted  and 
sharp  as  spears.  Promenades  extend  along  the  ancient 
ramparts.  The  lake,  the  river,  and  the  mountains 
gratify  the  eye.  Zwingle,  the  hero  and  scholar,  began 
here  the  Reformation.  Here  Lavater,  the  physiogno 
mist,  and  the  two  Gessners,  the  naturalist  and  the  poet, 
were  born.  The  arsenal  is  full  of  curious  weapons  of 
old  Swiss  wars.  It  contains  a  cross-bow,  of  wood  and 
iron,  with  which,  they  say,  Tell  shot  the  apple  from 
the  head  of  his  son. 

Traveling  through  drifting  clouds,  an  elevation  of 
two  thousand  feet,  cultivated  to  its  summit,  we  de 
scended,  by  roadside  crosses  of  wood  and  iron,  to  Lu 
cerne.  It  lies  between  the  heights  of  the  Righi  and 
Pilatus  ;  and  on  the  shores  of  that  lake,  which  is  for 
ever  associated  with  the  progress  of  liberty,  and  the 
epic  history  of  the  heroic  Swiss.  There  are  numerous 
bridges  in  the  town,  spanning  turbulent  rapids,  and 
adorned  with  paintings. 

In  the  suburbs,  is  a  monument  to  the  Swiss  defenders 
of  the  Tuilleries,  designed  by  Thorwaldsen.  Carved 
out  of  the  solid  rock,  with  a  limpid  pool  of  water  be 
neath  it,  lies  a  colossal  lion ;  which,  fatally  pierced  by  a 
spear,  holds,  with  dying  strength,  the  Bourbon  shield 


82  MISCELLANIES. 

in  its  paws.  It  wears  an  expression  of  pain  and  courage, 
of  fidelity  to  duty,  and  resignation  to  fate — passionate, 
spiritual,  and  natural.  One  instantly  feels,  how  beauti 
fully  genius  has  wrought  this  metaphor  in  stone ;  and 
how  fitly,  the  king  of  the  forest  illustrates  human  virtue. 

A  two  days'  journey  brought  us  to  Berne.  It  is 
seated  on  a  lofty  platform  of  rock,  surrounded  at  the 
base  by  the  river  Aar,  more  than  one  hundred  feet  be 
low  it.  Snow  covered  mountains  are  in  the  distance, 
and  fruitful  valleys  near.  The  houses  are  built  of  stone ; 
and  massive  arcades  shelter  the  sidewalks.  The  women, 
with  wide  sleeves,  flapping  like  wings,  and  white  linen 
vests  and  colored  skirts,  seem  as  though  their  toilet  was 
unfinished. 

Berne  seems  as  fond  of  bears  as  Rome  was  of  geese. 
The  image  is  on  its  coins,  and  on  its  shield.  Its  effigies, 
in  stone,  mount  the  barriers,  and  crown  the  fountains. 
A  clock  in  the  street,  sets  in  motion,  when  it  strikes,  a 
company  of  bears.  Some  on  horseback,  furnished  with 
the  mail,  spurs  and  lance  of  cavaliers ;  and  some  on 
their  hind  legs,  bearing  swords  and  flags,  march  around 
in  military  order.  In  a  sort  of  cellar,  on  the  edge  of 
the  town,  at  any  time  of  day,  may  be  seen  the  animal 
himself;  corpulent  and  indolent,  sitting  on  his  tail,  and 
holding  up  his  arms  like  a  beggar,  to  boys  and  strangers, 
for  apple  cores  and  chestnuts.  The  city,  however,  lib 
erally  supports  the  beast,  from  which  it  derives  its  name, 
and  whose  bloodshed  consecrated  its  foundations. 

We  passed  Freyburg,  with  its  feudal  watch  towers, 
and  its  wonderful  gorge,  crossed  by  the  longest  and  the 
highest  bridges  in  the  world.  Then  through  Lausanne 


SWITZERLAND.  83 

and  its  shaded  walks,  where  Gibbon  completed  his  his 
tory. 

We  next  reached  Geneva,  renowned  for  watches,  re 
formers,  refugees  and  poets.  Thither  went  John  Knox, 
fleeing  from  Britain.  There  rested  John  Calvin,  driven 
from  Italy.  It  has  been  the  resort  of  royalists,  from 
France  ;  regicides,  from  London  ;  and  plain  rogues  from 
all  places.  It  was  the  birth  place  of  Rousseau.  Near 
it,  Byron  wrote  some  of  his  cantos.  .Near  it,  Voltaire 
passed  his  latter  days.  It  is  built  in  a  charming  valley, 
partially  encompassed  with  a  double  line  of  fortifica 
tions  ;  forming  a  promenade,  from  which  you  look  up  to 
the  loftiest  mountain,  and  down  on  one  of  the  loveliest 
lakes  in  Europe.  The  place  seems  in  everything  but 
location,  a  French  town.  You  find  French  waiters  in 
the  hotels.  You  read  French  newspapers  in  the  cafes. 
You  see  French  signs  over  the  shops.  You  hear  French 
all  through  the  streets.  You  pay  your  bill  in  French 
coins.  You  ride  away  in  a  French  diligence.  You  can 
hardly  distinguish  a  native  from  a  Frenchman. 

But  the  Swiss  have  a  national  character,  and  in  gene 
ral  are  honest,  polite  and  penurious.  And  as  their 
country  is  rugged  and  mountainous,  circumscribed  in 
extent,  with  small  towns  and  few  factories ;  without 
seaports,  or  navigable  rivers,  or  railroads;  they  can 
never  be  a  great  people.  But  as  they  are  industrious, 
they  cannot  be  poor.  And  as  they  are  brave,  they  will 
always  be  free. 


JOE. 

Joe  is  a  character.  Nature  has  done  something  for 
him,  and  promises  more.  That  he  will  be  taller,  heavier, 
and  older,  if  he  lives,  may  be  confidently  asserted.  We 
cannot  as  easily  aver  that  he  will  be  scientific,  poetical, 
or  wealthy. 

He  is  not  a  prodigy  for  a  boy  of  fourteen,  like  Pascal. 
He  may  not  become  as  admirable  as  Crichton ;  or  as 
handsome  as  Absalom.  He  does  not  read  or  write  out 
of  his  vernacular  ;  and  uses  the  gift  of  speech  with  ap 
parent  reluctance.  It  is  unlikely  that  he  will  ever  move 
masses  by  his  tongue,  or  be  as  eloquent  as  Belial,  or 
Ulysess.  He  will  not  supply  the  lost  works  of  Livy,  or 
restore  the  lost  arts. 

His  mathematical  information  is  limited.  He  is  sat 
isfied  that  a  hoop  forms  a  circle,  and  that  the  globe 
is  round,  like  a  marble.  He  will  never  calculate  the 
inclination  of  an  asymptote,  nor  invent  a  theorem,  like 
Maclaurin's.  He  has  no  tendency  to  astronomy.  He 
seldom  looks  up,  unless  he  is  under  a  fruit  tree.  He 
would  not  have  regarded  the  falling  apple  in  the  same 
point  of  view  as  Newton.  He  has  not  inhaled  that 
divine  afflatus,  which  inspires  spondees  and  dactyls ; 
though  his  drowsy  disposition  gives  him  the  dreamy 
look  of  some  of  the  poets. 

(84) 


JOE.  85 

The  colossal  fortunes  which  industry  and  economy  have 
raised ;  the  transient  but  irresistible  fascination  of  po 
litical  eclat ;  the  hazardous  but  brilliant  game  of 
soldier,  may  never  be  connected  with  his  name. 

He  ignores  the  maxim  about  the  early  bird  getting 
the  worm.  Most  probably  he  will  never  run  for  office. 
He  is  not  without  pluck  or  patriotism,  but  his  sympa 
thies  are  statu  quo  ante  bellum. 

That  activity  which  never  tires,  and  is  aptly  com 
pared  to  the  ceaseless  motions  in  nature ;  that  energy 
which  overleaps  difficulties,  crushes  opposition,  and 
wrenches  success  from  defeat  and  despair ;  he  cannot  be 
said  to  illustrate. 

His  phrenological  features  display  a  well  balanced 
mind,  such  as  Everett,  calls  genius.  His  impulses  are 
not  violent,  nor  is  he  liable  to  explosions  of  wrath, 
surprise  or  mirth.  He  is  not  facetious,  nor  profound, 
nor  plausible,  nor  presuming. 

He  is  peculiarly  and  pre-eminently  slow.  A  quality 
which  is,  however,  not  without  merit  or  friends.  The 
precession  of  the  equinoxes  is  slow.  Justice  is  slow, 
and  moves  in  leaden  shoes.  A  slow  punishment  gives 
a  chance  for  repentance.  "Be  slow  to  anger,"  says  the 
scripture.  A  slow  match  often  saves  life.  A  slow 
foot,  like  that  of  the  tortoise,  sometimes  wins  a  race. 
A  slow  soldier,  like  Fabius,  often  throws  a  foe  off  his 
guard.  A  slow  coach  has  charms  for  nervous  women  ; 
and  a  slow  note,  for  a  poor  man.  A  slow  cure  promises 
most  health.  A  slow  growth,  like  the  persimmon's,  con 
duces  to  vigor.  A  slow  process  of  making  money  is 
apt  to  be  successful.  A  slow  dog,  like  the  beagle,  is 
likely  to  worry  down  the  game.  A  slow  fire,  like  a 


86  MISCELLANIES. 

burning  knot,  is  certain  to  last.  A  slow  rain  pene 
trates  the  earth.  A  slow  eater  gets  fat.  A  slow  life  is 
mostly  a  long  one.  And  slow  people  are  said  to  be 
sure.  They  are  not  in  a  hurry  to  go  or  stop.  They  do 
not  break  anything  in  order  to  see  a  balloon  or  a  circus. 
They  are  content  "to  wait  for  the  wagon,"  or  themillen- 
ium.  They  are  rarely  alarmed ;  they  seldom  get 
hurt ;  they  are  not  choked  ;  they  are  not  cheated.  They 
do  not  get  lost ;  they  do  not  abscond.  They  are  seri 
ous,  they  are  doubters ;  sometimes  skeptics,  never  en 
thusiasts.  They  are  often  melancholy,  never  frantic ; 
though  apt  to  make  others  so,  who  depend  on  their 
motions. 

Therefore  nothing  is  more  intolerable  than  a  slow 
cook  to  the  hungry  ;  or  a  slow  priest  to  the  bride  ;  or 
a  slow  express  with  returns,  to  the  politician.  Nor  in 
any  such  capacity  ought  Joe  ever  to  be  employed. 

Indeed,  it  is  difficult  to  say  when,  he  will  be  the  right 
person  in  the  right  place.  He  has  hardly  sufficient 
momentum  to  be  mischievous  or  meritorious.  He  has 
not  zeal  enough  for  a  parson  ;  and  yet  too  much  humil 
ity  for  the  Bar.  He  is  not  positive  enough  for  the 
Bench  ;  he  is  not  systematic  enough  for  a  physician,  and 
he  is  too  conservative  for  a  quack. 

His  local  attachment  must  prevent  him  from  going 
much  abroad.  His  reserve  would,  besides,  make  him 
rather  insipid,  as  a  traveling  companion.  In  a  two 
day's  excursion,  a  horse-trough,  like  one  at  home,  elicit 
ed  the  only  remark  he  made. 

His  habits  are  sedentary.  He  would  be  eminent  as  a 
tailor,  if  it  were  not  for  the  laborious  motion  of  the 
arms ;  as  an  errand  boy,  if  it  were  not  for  the  constant 


JOE.  87 

draught  upon  the  legs ;  as  a  nurse,  if  vigilance  were 
unnecessary ;  and  a  good  lad  generally,  if  he  had 
nothing  to  do. 

His  innocent  face  evinces  no  emotion,  and  excites 
none.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  thinking  of  anything 
that  ever  occurred ;  or  expecting  that  anything  would 
happen  again. 

He  fully,  illustrates  that  expression  of  repose  which 
is  so  characteristic  of  Egyptian  art.  If  the  ancient 
mythology  prevailed,  he  might  be  employed  as  a  model 
for  that  immovable  deity,  which  was  planted  on  boun 
dary  lines,  and  called  the  god  Terminus.  For  this  pur 
pose,  had  he  not  been  so  slow  in  being  born,  he  would, 
two  thousand  years  ago,  have  been  useful  in  the  world. 


THE  SIMPLON  PASS  OVER  THE  ALPS. 

In  a  diligence  we  passed  over  meadows,  where  shep 
herd  girls,  in  razeed  hats  and  roundabouts,*  watched 
browsing  cattle  ;  through  villages  with  streets  of  mire, 
and  houses  roofed  by  overjutting  rocks,  the  abodes  of 
Cretins  and  goitred  women  ;  amongst  ravines  filled  with 
firs,  and  the  wrecks  of  avalanches,  till  we  struck  the 
Simplon. 

This  road  was  the  work  of  Napoleon.  It  required 
six  years  for  its  construction,  and  often  the  labor  of 
thirty  thousand  men.  Its  length  is  nearly  fifty  miles; 
it  pierces  the  granite  mountain  in  a  dozen  places  ;  spans 
gorges  with  more  than  five  hundred  bridges ;  and  with 
a  width  of  twenty-five  feet,  and  a  grade  of  an  inch  to 
the  foot,  ascends  more  than  a  mile  above  the  sea. 

We  entered  the  pass  before  dawn.  There  was  no 
moon,  but  the  outline  of  things  was  dimly  shown  by  the 
glittering  constellations.  There  was  no  noise,  but  the 
occasional  splash  of  water,  and  the  creaking  wheels. 
There  was  no  traveler  but  myself;  and  I  walked  with 
slow  and  easy  steps,  up  this  solitude,  so  infinite  and 
wild. 

Great  masses  in  front  appeared  to  obstruct  the  way. 
Great  gulfs,  abrupt,  and  wide,  and  invisibly  deep, 
yawned  around.  Vast  shadows  loomed  from  the  rugged 
steps,  vague  as  monsters.  Shapeless  heaps  rose  high 

(88) 


THE  SIMPLON  PASS  OVER  THE  ALPS.       89 

and  distant  as  the  stars,  which  seemed  to  crown  them. 
The  whole  might  resemble  the  anarchy  of  nature — as 
if  Hercules  in  his  burning  rage ;  or  Milton's  angels  in 
their  war,  had  strewed  here  the  fragments  of  unseated 
woods  and  "upturned  mountains." 

Day  broke  at  length,  and  the  sun  flashed  from  point 
to  point,  and  lighted  up  the  grandeur  of  the  scene. 
Heights,  depths  and  distances  were  disclosed.  Rocks, 
huge  as  hills,  were  poised  like  missiles.  Cliffs,  like 
pyramids  or  towers,  were  roofed  with  snow,  or  pinnacled 
with  ice.  Trees,  old  and  tall,  swung  from  the  sides  of 
fearful  chasms.  Torrents  rushed  overhead  or  underfoot, 
thundering  in  their  fall,  and  flinging  up  their  spray  in 
rainbows.  Dark  tunnels,  long  galleries,  lofty  arches, 
and  huts  of  refuge  were  passed,  and  the  summit  gained. 
All  there  was  barren  and  cold  as  winter.  The  daisies 
had  disappeared,  the  grasses  failed,  the  firs  and  birches 
took  no  root.  Glaciers,  and  granite,  and  desolation 
reigned  around. 

The  descent  was  hence  by  a  narrow  defile,  called  the 
gorge  of  Gondo,  whose  perpendicular  sides  reach  up  a 
thousand  feet  above  the  road.  We  traversed  this  wind 
ing  avenue,  cut  through  solid  stone,  a  two  hours  journey, 
to  its  end. 

It  opened  into  a  plain,  where  miles  of  level  land  were 
beautifully  green;  where  vines  were  trailed  over  countless 
arbours  ;  and  slopes  were  decked  with  pretty  villas  ; 
and  gardens  glowed  with  fruit  and  flowers  ;  where  the 
air  was  full  of  life  and  song,  and  the  sky  bright  as  pearl. 
This  was  Italy. 


A  RIDE  ON  THE  PRAIRIES. 


Years  ago,  when  railroads  were  scarce  in  the  great 
west,  I  crossed  the  muddy  Mississippi,  from  St.  Louis, 
and  started  in  a  Troy  built  stage,  on  a  journey  through 
Illinois.  I  was  the  only  passenger ;  and  as  the  driver 
ostentatiously  gathered  up  the  "ribbons,"  and  gave 
his  whip  the  dexterous  flourish  of  his  craft,  and  the 
four  horses  sprang  forward  in  a  gallop,  and  the  coach 
danced  on  its  leathern  springs,  I  seemed  confidentially 
vain  of  my  importance. 

On  we  went,  the  dust  rolled  away  like  smoke  behind 
us ;  houses  and  fields  in  constant  succession  disappear 
ed  ;  long  miles  were  made ;  and  the  day  was  well  nigh 
spent,  when  we  halted  at  an  Inn,  whose  sign  was  a  pic 
ture  of  our  own  conveyance. 

The  next  morning,  we  were  again  on  the  road,  through 
acres  of  corn,  which  prevailed  over  the  wide  land ; 
sometimes  through  a  wooden  village  built  on  cord  sticks, 
with  a  small  office,  used  by  turns  for  church,  court  and 
school.  Our  arrival  in  such  a  place,  heralded  by  the 
rattle  of  hoofs  and  wheels,  and  a  blast  from  the  stage 
horn,  brought  out  the  chief  citizens.  There  was  the 
man  who  had  been  east,  the  justice  of  the  peace,  the 
Methodist  brother,  and  those  unofficial  loafers,  who 
claim  to  be  the  people. 

(90) 


A    RIDE   ON   THE    PRAIRIES.  91 

Sometimes,  for  great  distances,  there  were  no  signs 
of  cultivation  ;  no  roof  of  shelter,  no  growth  of  grain,  no 
fenced  ground,  no  single  tree  was  to  be  seen.  The  vast 
level  expanded  in  all  directions  to  the  horizon;  sublime 
in  its  uniformity,  its  solitude,  and  silence.  The  long 
grass  rippled  like  water  in  the  breeze ;  brilliant  with 
gay  flowers,  and  that  delicious  green,  which  only  virgin 
soils  and  prairie  suns  produce. 

Again  we  went  by  clumps  of  wood,  thick  with  bushes, 
whither  the  deer  retreat  from  the  heat  and  the  flies. 
The  prairie  chickens,  in  flocks,  flushed  suddenly  before 
us,  or  sailed  lazily  over  the  road.  The  rattlesnake, 
now  and  then,  trailed  swiftly  through  the  dust,  or 
coiled  up  in  the  way,  struck  defiantly,  and  vainly  at  the 
wheels. 

No  person  met  us  on  the  route ;  but  some  cattle  stood, 
like  pictures,  against  the  sky,  as  we  approached  the 
"  Traveler's  rest."  We  remained  a  while  at  this  iso 
lated  tavern  to  shoot  game.  It  was  built  of  frame, 
painted  red,  and  leaned  far  out  of  plumb.  The  bar 
room  was  decorated  with  wagon  gear  and  chains  ;  with 
two  long  flint  lock  guns,  and  two  huge  powder  horns  ; 
with  several  whiskey  jugs  and  tins  ;  with  doors  which 
had  neither  bolts  nor  locks.  The  "Sucker"  landlord 
smiled  inquisitively,  and  soon  asked:  "whar  I  came 
from."  The  children  wondered  at  my  wristbands,  and 
said  they  were  "mighty  white."  The  wife  prepared  a 
supper  more  wholesome  than  fashionable. 

Having  slept  on  the  floor,  and  gunned  around  the 
house,  and  eaten  a  prairie  hen,  I  left,  next  day,  in  the 
stage. 


92  MISCELLANIES. 

At  night  fall,  when  we  stopped  for  water,  an  unknown 
person  took  a  seat  beside  me.  Being  able  only  to  see 
that  his  figure  was  tall,  I  indulged  in  some  fancies  about 
brigands.  But  weary  of  loneliness  and  silence,  his 
society  was  a  relief,  and  we  chatted  for  a  time  pleasantly 
together.  His  misuse  of  sounding  words,  however, 
made  an  impression  that  he  was  silly  or  eccentric. 

Soon  the  sky  grew  darker  with  gathering  clouds ;  the 
stars  became  obscured  ;  and  the  breeze  augmented  to 
a  gale.  Having  been  silent  for  a  while,  my  companion 
suddenly  said — "Stranger  did  you  ever  know  the  king 
of  the  Spanish  dominions  ? — he  is  a  great  man — I  cor 
respond  with  him — he  is  my  Brother — do  you  know 
him?"  Raising  his  voice,  he  proceeded: — "He  has 
soldiers,  and  spirits,  and  devils — he  is  the  man  in  the 
moon !"  Startled  and  alarmed  at  thus  finding  myself 
alone,  at  such  a  time  and  place,  with  a  crazy  man,  I 
involuntarily  seized  the  door,  and  nervously  answered, 
no.  "Not  know  him;"  he  said  more  loudly — "Not 
know  him — how  I  pity  you — you  shall  know  him — I'll 
take  you  to  him — I'll  introduce  you — we'll  go  to  night 
— hurrah  to  night !"  In  the  midst  of  his  cries,  the 
storm  increased — the  blast  redoubled  its  fury — the  rain 
beat  upon  us  like  a  flood.  Then,  with  an  abrupt  lunge, 
we  were  borne  forward  with  new  speed  ;  the  horses  were 
running  away — the  coach  rocked  from  side  to  side,  as 
if  it  would  overturn.  We  were  thrown  against  one 
another,  backward  and  forwards,  while  on  we  dashed — 
down  in  the  gullies — over  the  sluices — up  the  hillocks — 
now  clattering  across  a  rickety  bridge — on  into  thick 
darkness,  made  more  fearful  by  the  gleam  of  lightings, 
and  the  crash  of  thunder  bolts. 


A   RIDE   ON   THE   PRAIRIES.  93 

While  amidst  this  confusion  ;  arose  the  frantic  yells 
of  the  lunatic,  to  aggravate  the  dread  and  the  danger- 
It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the  spirits  he  spoke  of,  were 
present,  and  his  promise  of  our  destination  would  be 
fulfilled.  A  thousand  thoughts  flew  through  the  mind, 
of  the  past,  the  distant,  of  home,  and  kin,  and  sin,  and 
death.  Nothing  but  a  catastrophe  seemed  likely  to  stop 
us.  All  at  once;  we  were  hurled  violently,  head 
foremost,  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  and  stunned,  for  a 
time,  by  the  shock.  A  few  minutes  afterwards,  we 
crawled  out  to  find  that  we  had  lost  a  wheel,  and  were 
lodged  in  a  marsh. 

As  I  recovered,  and  stood  in  the  drenching  rain,  the 
lunatic  ran  off  with  wild  speed,  shouting  more  wildly — 
"  Hurrah — Spanish  dominions — dominions — hurrah," 
till  his  voice,  broken  and  diminished,  in  the  distance, 
"grew  fainter  and  then  ceased." 

A  cottage  happened  to  be  near,  and  the  storm  lulling, 
the  hospitable  squatter,  with  a  lantern,  assisted  us  to 
restore  the  wheel,  and  lash  it  fast  by  a  hickory  withe. 
The  driver  then,  to  an  inquiry  about  our  late  passenger, 
said ;  that  he  had  become  deranged  for  the  loss  of  his 
brother  on  the  coast  of  Spain ;  and  that  usually  quiet, 
he  had  been  roused  to  fury  by  the  tempest. 

We  then  went  softly  on  our  way,  with  all  possible 
caution,  without  delaying  the  United  States  mail,  for 
the  erratic  correspondent  of  the  King  of  the  Spanish 
dominions. 


FROM  THE   ALPS  TO  PISA. 

Leaving  the  Alps,  we  saw  peasant  girls  with  large 
throats,  red  bordered  skirts,  red  turbans  and  dark 
surtouts ;  carrying  leaves  along  the  road ;  or  picking 
them  amongst  the  perilous  rocks,  like  those  who  gathered 
samphire  on  the  cliffs  of  Dover. 

We  entered  the  luxurious  vallies  which  had  so  often 
allured  invaders ;  passed  villages,  diversified  with  the 
painted  walls  of  houses  ;  the  yellow  legs  of  lazaroni,  the 
flow  of  dirty  waters,  and  women  with  olive  cheeks  and 
raven  curls.  We  followed  the  sinuous  shores  of  Lake 
Maggiore,  whose  islands,  small  or  populous,  resembled 
floating  cities,  or  ships  of  flowers.  We  reached  Milan, 
where  the  officers  of  customs  looked  narrowly  amongst 
our  baggage  for  pamphlets  and  pistols,  and  a  gang  of 
porters,  acquired  by  degrees,  our  smaller  coins. 

Milan  was  prosperous  when  Rome  declined ;  was 
wasted  by  rivals  and  barbarians  ;  was  famous  for  its  steel, 
and  gave  a  name  to  Milliners.  The  streets  are  paved 
with  a  double  line  of  flat  stones  ;  over  which  carriages 
roll  as  smoothly  as  on  a  floor.  Prints  and  paintings  are 
tacked  upon  dead  walls.  Cauldrons  of  large  chestnuts 
are  roasting  over  charcoal  fires,  and  huckster  men  ladle 
out  a  handful  for  a  "sous."  Beggars  are  sitting  con 
tentedly  at  the  corners  ;  rattling  moneyboxes,  as  the 
dice  players  do  for  luck.  Women  are  passing  with  black 

[94] 


FROM   THE   ALPS   TO   PISA.  95 

embroidered  veils  on  their  heads,  in  lieu  of  bonnets. 
Balconies  are  hanging  from  the  windows.  An  ancient 
colonnade  stands  desolate  in  the  streets.  Tall  bell 
towers  are  near  the  churches. 

The  Duomo  is  considered  the  most  beautiful  of 
Cathedrals.  It  is  all  marble,  once  entirely  white,  now 
somewhat  tinged  with  the  yellow  hue  of  time.  It  is 
nearly  five  hundred  feet  in  length  ;  and  more  than  three 
hundred  and  fifty  from  the  pavement  to  the  apex.  The 
walls  are  relieved  with  buttresses,  richly  wrought,  and 
Roman  windows,  and  painted  glass,  and  niches  filled 
with  figures.  Pinnacles  rise  on  every  side — each  sur 
mounted  by  a  statue.  Above  them  all,  the  spire  ascends 
with  winding  steps,  and  sculptured  balusters  ;  like  a 
stairway  to  the  clouds.  On  its  very  summit  shines  an 
effigy  of  the  Madonna. 

The  interior  of  the  edifice  is  also  imposing.  The 
elegant  doors  open  on  a  floor  of  tri-colored  mosaic.  Rows 
of  colossal  columns  eighty  feet  in  height,  support  the 
fretted  arches  of  the  roof.  Splendid  monuments  to  saints 
and  cardinals,  and  handsome  altars  are  by  the  walls. 
Large  pictures  are  along  the  corridors.  Pulpits  of  bronze, 
with  symbolic  images,  are  near  the  choir  ;  and  in  a  golden 
shrine,  arrayed  in  gorgeous  robes,  lies  the  shriveled 
mummy  of  San  Carlo. 

From  Milan,  our  road  led  over  a  flat  country  ;  dotted 
with  poplars,  oaks  and  willows  ;  by  men  in  knee-breeches, 
and  women  with  wooden  heels ;  by  white  castles,  and 
poor  towns  ;  over  bridges  of  boats,  where  at  night  each 
drowsy  passenger  in  the  diligence  was  roused  to  pay  his 
river  fare  ;  across  the  battle  fields  of  Hannibal  and  Na 
poleon  ;  down  the  mountain  side  to  Genoa. 


96  MISCELLANIES. 

This  city  is  seated  on  a  crescent  shore.  The  Ap- 
penines  behind  it  are  beautiful  with  vines  and  villas  ;  its 
spires  are  numerous  ;  its  shops  and  palaces  and  churches 
are  rich  in  gold  and  marble.  All  the  streets  but  one  are 
narrow ;  all  the  women  wear  white  veils  ;  and  it  has  been 
called  the  city  of  Kings. 

Hence  a  steamer  landed  us  amidst  the  cries  of  boat 
men  and  clouds  of  dust,  on  the  wide  flag  pavements  of 
Leghorn,  which  has  given  a  name  to  hats. 

The  traveler  is  impressed  here  with  the  division  of 
labor,  which  is  so  well  adapted  to  diminish  his  resources. 
One  porter  hands  the  baggage  to  another ;  a  third  unloads, 
and  a  fourth  carries  it  in  to  the  hotel.  Neither  the  driver 
nor  waiter  is  allowed  to  interfere,  although  all  the  six 
must  be  paid. 

A  rail  car  bore  us  hence  to  Pisa.  The  leaning  tower 
is  circular,  of  white  marble,  with  eight  colonnades 
around  it,  one  above  the  other.  It  is  fifty  feet  in  di 
ameter,  and  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  high.  It  has 
stood  six  hundred  years,  leaning  thirteen  feet  from  the 
perpendicular.  The  inclination  was  caused  by  a  yield 
ing  soil.  It  was  counterbalanced,  by  varying  the  length 
of  the  columns,  during  its  construction,  and  afterwards, 
by  the  bells.  The  largest  bell  weighs  twelve  thousand 
pounds  ;  and  is  so  hung  as  to  keep  the  centre  of  gravity 
within  the  base. 

From  every  position ;  from  the  street ;  from  the  top  ; 
at  a  distance,  or  near,  the  tower  appears  as  if  it  was 
just  going  to  fall.  To  one  on  the  summit,  it  seems 
sinking  down ;  but  he  is  at  once  attracted  by  the  inter 
esting  and  extensive  view  around  him.  Below  is  the 
Cathedral,  with  the  long  horizontal  lines,  and  elevated 


FROM  THE  ALPS  TO  PISA.  97 

platform  of  a  Grecian  temple ;  a  monument  of  pious 
gratitude  for  victory  over  the  infidels.  Near  by,  is  the 
"  Holy  Field"  inclosed,  and  covered  with  soil  from 
Calvary ;  decorated  with  frescoes  and  sarcophagi.  And 
there  is  the  city  and  the  winding  river — the  meadows 
with  herds  of  cattle,  white  as  the  Cretan  bull — villages 
on  the  mountain  sides — and  the  sails  of  gallant  vessels 
flashing  on  the  distant  sea. 

9 


THE  DOG  BOZ. 

On  the  morning  after  the  great  Macaulay  was  lowered 
amongst  the  illustrious  bones  of  Westminster,  the  best 
of  dogs  was  found  stark  and  senseless  on  the  sleeted 
snow.  Old  Boz  is  dead ;  like  Hiawatha,  he  has  gone 

"  To  the  regions  of  the  home  wind, 

•  *  *  *  « 

To'the  kingdom  of  Ponemah." 

Dogs,  like  Indians,  look  perchance  beyond  this  vale  of 
tears  to  a  paradise  of  game.  The  theory  has  been  sug 
gested  by  men  of  science,  like  Peter  H.  Browne,  and 
by  men  of  the  world,  like  Samuel  Weller.  So  we  read 
of  one's  ghost,  which  haunted  Peel  castle,  and  deprived 
of  speech  whoever  addressed  it.  If  their  treatment 
here  has  not  corresponded  with  their  conduct,  it  is 
reasonable  to  expect  for  them  a  compensating  future. 

They  were  the  first  animals  subdued,  and  their  use 
fulness  has  been  most  various.  They  have  been  devoted 
to  the  security,  the  amusement,  and  luxury  of  men. 
Some  ancients  and  some  moderns  have  deemed  their 
flesh  delicious  food.  Hippocrates  compared  it  to  pork. 
The  Chinaman  prefers  it  to  veal.  Dog's  blood  was  once 
considered  an  antidote  for  poison.  His  hide  has  been 
used  for  slippers,  and  his  hair  for  beds  and  robes.  His 
instinct  taught  us  our  resort  to  emetics. 

(98) 


THE   DOG    BOZ.  99 

His  habits  adapt  themselves  to  all  phases  of  society. 
He  hunts  with  the  savage,  and  the  sportsman  ;  through 
the  forest  and  the  prairie.  He  watches  the  flocks, 
while  the  shepherd  studies  the  stars — and  the  house  of 
the  burgher,  while  he  dreams  on  his  couch.  He  drags 
the  rude  sledge  of  the  Esquimaux  over  the  ocean  of  ice ; 
and  the  truck  wagon  of  the  Boor  along  the  highways 
of  Holland.  He  invades  the  ambush  of  the  wild  beast 
and  the  assassin.  He  goes  with  the  conscript  over  the 
perilous  "ridges  of  battle." 

He  displays  qualities  such  as  men  delight  to  boast  of. 
He  has  had  more  applause  than  the  clown,  for  his  tricks 
in  the  circus.  He  has  tracked,  with  the  keenness  of  a 
sheriff,  stolen  goods  and  felons,  through  crowds,  and 
darkness,  and  for  weeks-^-torn  the  money  from  the 
pocket  and  the  shoes — led  a  friend  to  the  hidden  corpse 
— sprang  at  the  murderer's  throat.  He  attended  the 
wounded  with  the  same  charity  as  the  heroine  of  Scutari. 
He  guided  the  blind  beggar  after  alms.  He  gathered 
food  for  the  starving — saved  the  helpless  from  the  preci 
pice,  the  flood  and  the  fire.  He  served  with  equal 
fidelity  the  powerful  and  the  poor — nor  forgot  his 
master  abroad — nor  forsook  him  in  the  prison — nor  at 
the  scaffold — nor  at  the  tomb. 

He  recognized  Telemachus,  long  absent, 

'«  And  fawning  at  his  feet  confessed  his  joy." 

Homer  again  makes  his  faithfulness  excite  the  tears  of 
Ulysses ;  and  Southey,  the  grief  of  Rhoderick ;  and 
Cowper  compares  his  love  to  religion.  He  watched  by 
the  sick  bed  of  Peter  Bold.  He  mourned  over  the  head- 


100  MISCELLANIES. 

less  body  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.     He  wandered  over 
the  field  of  Dresden,  seeking  the  slain  Moreau.     He 
followed  alone  the  pauper's  hearse,  as  .they 
"  Rattled  his  bones  over  the  stones." 

He  threw  himself  on  the  funeral  pile  of  royal  Lysi- 
machus.  He  perished  of  grief  and  despair  at  the  grave 
of  Jason. 

But  all  the  associations  of  the  species  are  not  agree 
able.  He  is  wild  and  ferocious  on  the  flats  of  Congo. 
He  snarls  all  day  and  night  in  the  Eastern  cities.  To 
quarrel  is  his  privilege. 

"  Let  dogs  delight 
To  bark  and  bite," 

is  one  of  the  earliest  lessons.  The  Mosaic  figure  over 
the  " cave  canem"  at  Pompeii,  is  but  a  symbol  of 
anger.  The  rage  of  Hecuba  changed  her  into  a  dog. 
He  is  a  beast  and,  therefore,  sensual.  He  is  liable  to 
madness,  and  hence  to  be  suspected.  He  is  carnivorous, 
and  may  be  cruel.  He  is  servile,  and  may  be  deceitful. 
His  voice,  though  a  hint  to  rascals,  and  once  sweet  as 
music  to  the  tired  and  plundered  Syntax,  is  a  foe  to  re 
pose.  He  prowls  amongst  garbage,  and  does  not  al 
ways  smell  like  a  thousand  flowers. 

His  name  was  sometimes  given  to  the  Furies.  It  re 
presented  the  spirit  of  war  and  havoc.  It  has  been  a 
term  of  scorn.  His  service  was  ignominious.  His 
price  was  unclean,  and  not  fit  for  the  altar.  He  lap 
ped  up  the  blood  of  Ahab  ;  ate  the  flesh  of  Jezebel,  and 
devoured  the  Christians  in  the  Roman  circus.  Job,  in 
bitterness,  only  preferred  him  to  his  enemy.  The 
preacher,  in  charity,  only  preferred  him  to  a  dead  lior. 


THE   DOG    BOZ.  101 

Moses  abhorred  him,  when  he  made  him  silent  against 
Israel — and  the  Philistine,  when  he  railed  at  the 
weapons  of  David — Hazacl,  when  he  scouted  at  the 
crimes  predicted  by  the  prophet — and  the  inhabitants 
of  Sygaros,  who  would  not  allow  him  to  approach  their 
abodes. 

He  was  compared  to  whatever  was  greedy,  dumb,  un- 
circumcised,  incorrigible,  or  worked  evil.  He  was  com 
pared  to  those  without  the  pale  of  grace.  Before  him, 
the  holy  things  were  not  to  be  cast.  To  him,  the  chil 
dren's  bread  was  not  to  be  given.  He  returned  to  the 
filth  he  rejected.  He  licked  the  sores  of  Lazarus. 
^Eschylus  illustrated,  by  his  moan,  the  sleeping  harpies. 
Dean  Swift  likened  to  him  the  baseness  of  Titus  Gates. 
The  mythologist  personified  horror  in  the  triple-headed 
Cerberus,  who  kept  the  gates  of  Pluto — and  Byron,  in 
constancy,  in  his  own  dog  at  the  gates  of  Newstead. 
His  vileness  suggested  Curran's  sarcasm  on  Lord  Clare; 
and  Shy  lock' s  taunt — 

"  Is  it  possible  a  cur  can  lend  three  thousand  ducats  ;" 

and  occasioned  the  bitten  courtier  to  exclaim,  "  God 
bless  your  Majesty,  but  not  your  dogs." 

A  bankrupt,  according  to  the  proverb,  has  gone  to 
the  dogs.  It  is  said  of  successful  rascals,  that  every 
dog  must  have  his  day.  The  crowd  is  most  desperate 
and  dangerous,  when  through  the  town  they  cry,  mad 
dog.  The  invalid,  when  most  forlorn,  complains  of 
being  sick  as  a  dog.  The  loafer  is  always  as  tired  as  a 
dog.  The  worst  type  of  constable  was  Dogberry.  The 
coarsest  of  philosophers  were  called  dogs,  or  Cynics. 
The  most  oppressive  part  of  the  year  are  the  dog  days. 


102  MISCELLANIES. 

The  meanest  of  dead  languages  is  dog  Latin.  The 
vilest  poetry  is  doggerel.  The  most  worthless  article 
is  dog  cheap.  A  crafty  fellow  is  a  sly  dog.  A  low 
fellow  is  a  dirty  dog.  A  selfish,  heartless,  unscrupu 
lous  fellow  is  usually  reproached  with  being  his  rela 
tion. 

Thus  the  prejudice  of  centuries,  and  the  customs  of 
communities  have  disparaged  the  brute.  His  body  has 
been  crucified  along  the  Roman  ways,  and  burnt  upon 
the  heathen  altars.  He  has  been  made  the  target  of 
satires  and  of  stones.  They  have  tortured  and  worried 
him,  for  experiment  and  mischief.  Poisoned  him,  to 
test  drugs  and  gases — exhibited  his  misery  for  amuse 
ment — made  it  no  larceny  to  steal  him — set  a  reward 
upon  his  head — shot  him  as  a  nuisance — chained  him 
like  a  culprit — cropped  his  ears  for  fashion — shortened 
his  tail  for  a  joke. 

Thus  subject  to  untoward  fortune,  he  has  yet  not 
been  without  favor  and  protection.  Mohammedans 
place  food  and  water  for  him  in  the  streets.  The 
Japanese  have  a  hospital  for  him  in  sickness,  and  make 
his  destruction  a  capital  offence.  Dr.  Norman  pro- 
fe.ssed  to  cure  his  diseases,  at  Fox  court,  London.  An 
annual  exhibition  is  held  in  England  to  improve  his 
breed.  And  a  sort  of  poor  house  has  been  founded 
for  him  there,  when  he  is  astray  or  starving. 

Men  treat  him  with  more  familiarity  than  all  other 
animals.  Alciphron  invited  both  his  friend  and  his 
dog  to  a  feast.  The  dog  of  Alcibiades  divided  with  his 
master,  the  attention  of  Athens.  Evander  had  a  pair 
of  dogs  by  his  side,  when  he  went  to  meet  ^Eneas. 
The  famous  Blue  Beard  was  always  attended  by  his 


THE    DOG    BOZ.  103 

pack.  The  Queen  Henrietta  risked  her  life  to  save  her 
lap  dog.  The  poet  said  of  the  merry  Charles,  that — 

"  His  very  dog,  at  council  board, 
Sits  grave  and  wise  as  any  lord." 

Selwyn,  the  wit,  and  Walpole,  the  gossip,  spoke  of 
their  spaniels,  as  admiringly  as  they  did  of  the  fair 
Miss  Gunnings.  John  Randolph  kept  his  two  hounds 
with  him  on  the  floor  of  Congress.  Willis  fondled  one 
at  Idlewild,  who  had  smelt  the  "open  sea."  Voiture 
speaks  of  ladies,  "whose  eyes  weep  for  dogs,  and  mur 
der  men."  A  spinster  is  said  to  have  feared  that  her 
whiffet  would  get  sick  from  biting  her  guest.  Mrs. 
Barbauld  calls  the  mastiff 

"  A  safe  companion,  and  almost  a  friend." 

Most  persons  are  fond  of  a  similar  pet,  who  goes  with 
them  in  their  walks,  their  toils,  their  sports ;  excites 
their  attachment ;  enlists  their  care,  and  whose  death 
recalls  his  peculiar  virtues. 

Boz  was  neither 

"  Mongrel,  puppy,  whelp,  nor  hound, 
Nor  cur^of  low  degree." 

He  was  called  after  the  popular  pen  of  Dickens,  and 
born  a  setter.  A  breed  more  ancient  than  the  poet 
Surry,  to  whom  some  attribute  their  training.  But  to 
tell  his  genealogy  would  be  as  difficult,  as 

"  To  trace  the  Kilmansegg  pedigree, 
To  the  very  root  of  the  family  tree." 

His  line  runs  back  to  the  heroic  age  of  hunters,  when 
wants  were  simple  and  law  was  scarce ;  when  there  were 
no  lectures  on  the  "  social  forces,"  and  no  actions  of 
trespass  in  the  Common  Pleas. 

His  ancestors  may  have  set  quails  in  the  thickets  of 


104  MISCELLANIES. 

Thessaly,  at  the  "to-ho"  of  Diana — or  with  mistaken 
instinct,  pursued  and  devoured  imprudent  Actseon — or 
coursed  along  the  banks  of  rivers  with  mighty  Nimrod — 
or  yelped  in  the  pack  of  Cyrus  who,  says  Xenophon, 
was  devoted  to  the  chase — or  caught  for  Cleopatra  the 
wild  boars,  with  which  she  feasted  Anthony — or  followed 
the  bugles  of  St.  Eustace — or  led  the  hunt  of  mediaeval 
Bishops  over  the  sedges  of  Hainault,  and  the  hills  of 
Jura. 

He  had  all  the  marks  of  gentle  blood.  He  had  the 
fine  fluctuating  ears  which  the  Carthaginian  Bard  de 
scribed.  His  form  was  handsome — his  limbs  and 
features,  perfect  and  harmonious.  His  color  was  of 
mingled  white  and  brown,  like  the  leaves  and  frost  of 
autumn.  His  hair  was  flowing,  and  soft  as  the  fleece  of 
Cashmere — as  any  the  caterpillar  spins,  or  Jacquard's 
loom  can  weave.  His  eyes  were  lustrous  and  sad,  like 
a  thoughtful  woman's,  or  a  poet's.  He  smiled,  not  like 
Cassius,  but  with  a  subdued  and  persuasive  air ;  and  he 
almost  wept  with  human  tears. 

His  attitudes  and  movements  were  so  full  of  grace  and 
and  nature,  that  he  must  have  allured  Europa  from  the 
spell  of  Taurus ;  presented  a  tempting  model  to  the 
artists — attracted  the  pencil  of  Landseer,  and  the  gentle 
muse  of  Somerville. 

He  was  docile  and  intelligent.  He  knew  his  duty  and 
discharged  it  better  than  many  bipeds.  He  could  not 
like  the  spaniel  of  the  Medicean  noble,  wait  at  table, 
and  pour  out  wine — nor  did  he,  like  the  one  which 
haunted  the  Paris  Opera,  love  music  ;  though  he  howled 
a  sorry  second  to  the  church  bell.  Nor  like  the  one 
which  ran  with  London  engines,  did  he  enjoy  the  ex- 


THE    DOG    BOZ.  105 

citement  of  a  house  on  fire.  He  had  not  the  piety  which 
the  Ettrick  Shepherd  claimed  for  his,  who  sat  in  the 
pew  alone  and  kept  awake.  Nor  the  wit  of  Walter 
Scott's,  who  understood  his  stories.  Nor  the  faculty  of 
speech  like  the  cur  of  Leibnitz  ;  nor  the  gift  of  prophecy 
like  Achilles'  horse,  or  Balaam's  ass. 

He  was  swift.     But  he  would  not  have  equaled  those 

who  won  the  Pentland  hills  for  Sir  W.  St.  Clair,  from 

King  Robert  Bruce.     Merkin  would  have  beat  him  who 

went  a  mile  in  four  minutes ;  and  Thanet's  hound  who 

ran  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  in  a  day ;  and  those 

"  Two  dogs  of  black  St.  Hubert's  breed, 

Unmatched  for  courage,  breath  and  speed." 

His  smell  was  keen.  Vermin  never  escaped  his  sense 
and  seldom  his  jaws.  He  swallowed  his  captives  with 
the  voracity  of  Cyclops.  He  reveled  in  the  open  field, 
and  in  the  marsh.  He  winded  from  bush  to  tussuc,  with 
untiring  zeal,  and  unerring  instinct  to  the  cover,  where 
the  birds  nestled,  or  the  rabbit  squat.  He  stopped  in 
full  gallop,  and  rigid  as  marble, 

"  Pointed  with  his  instructive  nose,  upon 
The  trembling  prey." 

The  crack  of  the  gun  gave  scope  to  his  boisterous  joy. 
He  was  content  with  the  honor  without  the  profit  of 
victory.  He  was  social.  He  kissed  the  horse  in  har 
ness,  and  played  with  pups  and  children,  with  all  the 
foolishness  of  age. 

He  was  not  selfish,  like  the  dog  in  the  manger.  Nor 
mischievous,  like  the  smuggler's,  who  aided  his  fraud  ; 
or  the  boot-black's  who  brushed  his  muddy  tail  on 
strangers'  feet.  He  was  modest  as  worth  is.  He  never 
entered  the  house ;  was  patient  of  neglect ;  dainty  in 


106  MISCELLANIES. 

diet ;  tolerant  of  injury ;  grateful   for   caresses.     Yet 
amongst  his  fellows,  he  was  like  Wolsey — 

"  Lofty  an  J  sour  to  those  that  loved  him  not, 

But,  to  those  dogs  that  sought  him,  sweet  as  summer." 

He  was  a  Northerner  ;  fearless  but  not  savage  ;  and 
bit  when  he  barked.  With  a  prejudice  for  freedom,  he 
was  loyal  to  restraint.  But  he  did  not  like  the  cur  in 
the  fable,  or  the  minion  of  party,  deem  the  muzzle  or 
chain  an  object  of  pride. 

He  was  a  representative  character,  and  might  have 
been  a  subject  for  the  essays  of  Emerson.  He  was  true 
to  his  mission,  and  Carlyle  might  have  placed  him  in  his 
Pantheon  of  heroes.  He  was  conservative,  and  like 
Burn's,  Luath  and  Caesar,  who, 

"  When  up  they  got  and  shook  their  lugs, 
Rejoiced  they  were  na  men  but  dogs." 

He  was  faithful.     Politicians    might  dodge,  friends  be 
tray,  women  change;  but, 

"  He  was  true  as  the  northern  star." 

He  was  not  idle.  In  the  dark  and  daylight  hours,  he 
went  his  rounds  like  some  ancient  warder,  questioning 
all  comers — following  the  suspicious — scowling  at  vag 
rants — fighting  the  thieves,  like  the  Bagman's  dog  in 
Ingoldsby ;  until  he  fell  at  last,  a  victim  to  his  vigilance 
and  courage.  This  last  act  of  Boz  evinced  particular 
merit. 

"  Nothing  in  his  life  so  became  him, 
As  the  leaving  it." 

It  recalled  the  daring  of  those  ancient  dogs,  who 
fought  in  regiments  for  the  people  of  Colophon.  Of 
those  who  defended  the  chattels  of  the  routed  Cimbri. 


THE   DOG   BOZ.  107 

Of  that  one  in  the  arena,  who  defeated  the  elephant  to 
amuse  the  sanguinary  taste  of  Alexander.  Of  that  one, 
which  in  the  reign  of  the  eighth  Louis,  on  the  trial  by 
duel,  (fit  ordeal  for  dogs,)  conquered  the  Chevalier 
Macaire.  And  of  that  one,  which  fell  fighting  at  the 
feet,  and  for  the  life  of  Cselius,  the  senator. 

Boz's  death  was  in  its  kind,  as  glorious  as  any  in  the 
Iliad.  Martyrdoms  like  his,  have  made  men's  names 
immortal.  Patriots  bleed  for  their  country,  in  the  hope 
of  posthumous  honor,  saints  burn  for  their  religion  for 
the  sake  of  heaven.  Boz  made  the  fatal  struggle,  per 
haps  unconscious  of  the  future  ;  reckless  of  advantage  ; 
to  save  from  larceny  half  a  ton  of  coal,  whose  use  he 
never  knew,  and  never  could  enjoy. 

So  died  he  ;  who  had  whatever  traits  could  enhance 
the  value  of  his  kind.  Nature  had  been  liberal  to  him. 
With  keen  instincts  and  vigorous  powers,  he  had  skill 
and  prudence,  from  education  and  experience. 

"  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements  so  mixed  in  him, 
That  all  the  world  could  stand  up  and  say, 
This  was  a  dog." 

No  marble  shaft,  to  be  sure,  may  be  placed  upon  his 
ashes,  such  as  a  Welsh  Prince  reared  over  his  grey 
hound,  Gelert.  But  we  may  say,  he  adds  another,  to 
those  who  have  given  consideration  to  his  race.  He 
was  one  of  those,  who  have  made  dogs  the  object  of 
eulogy,  monuments  and  worship — the  subject  of  a  trea 
tise  by  Caius — of  poetry  by  Nemesianus — of  painting 
by  Protogenes — of  sculpture  by  Miron — of  history  by 
Pliny — of  anecdotes  by  ^Elian — of  fables  by  ^)sop — of 
miracles  by  Julius  Obsequens. 


108  MISCELLANIES. 

Such  merits  as  his  have  made  dogs  everywhere  the 
emblems  of  fidelity — the  legal  attendants  of  gentlemen 
in  times  of  chivalry — fixed  their  effigy  over  the  tomb 
of  Diogenes,  and  at  the  feet  of  Silence — installed  them 
as  Kings  in  the  interior  of  Africa — consecrated  them 
as  Gods  in  Egypt — and  given  their  name  to  islands,  to 
rivers,  to  oracles,  to  seasons,  to  cities,  and  to  stars. 


ROME. 

After  much  annoyance  from  delays,  charges  and  pass 
ports  ;  from  the  police,  porters,  boatmen,  and  beggars, 
who  would  have  disturbed  the  composure  of  a  stoic ; 
having  bribed  two  of  the  posterity  of  the  Caesars,  who 
sat  for  the  receipt  of  customs,  we  entered  Rome,  saying ; 
with  the  Numidian  King,  as  he  left  it ;  "  this  city  is  to 
be  sold."  It  was  dark,  the  lamps  were  few  and  flicker 
ing  ;  no  loiterers  were  in  the  streets ;  no  revelers  were 
abroad ;  the  sons  of  Belial  went  not  forth ;  it  was  as 
silent  as  it  seemed  forsaken  ;  solemn  as  solitude. 

Daylight,  rest,  and  an  Italian  breakfast,  of  cake  and 
coffee,  fitted  us  to  wander  amongst  its  labyrinthine 
thoroughfares,  and  promiscuous  population.  We  went 
along  the  Corso ;  famous  for  the  sports  of  the  carnival, 
the  races  of  the  horses,  the  war  of  sugar  plums,  the  fan 
tastic  masks,  and  more  fantastic  tricks. 

There  are  churches  with  pillared  fronts,  and  gilded 
roofs,  and  illustrated  walls ;  with  chapels,  rich  as  offer 
ing  of  pilgrim  and  penitent  could  make  them — with 
shrines  of  priests,  and  popes,  costly  as  thrones ;  and 
mitred  skeletons,  in  silk  and  silver — with  hangings  of 
gold  and  crimson — with  holy  images,  endowed  with 
miraculous  powers — with  relics  consecrated  by  age, 
accident  or  tradition ;  secured  in  iron  closets,  before 
which  tapers  perpetually  burn — with  nails  which  pierced 

(109)  10 


110  MISCELLANIES. 

the  Saviour's  hands ;  the  lance  which  was  thrust  into 
his  side ;  the  sponge  which  was  filled  with  vinegar ; 
portion  of  the  cross  on  which  he  hung ;  his  vestment, 
which  had  no  seam ;  the  purple  rohe,  and  prickles  from 
the  crown  of  thorns ;  the  virgin's  veil,  and  Joseph's 
staff,  and  Peter's  hair,  and  the  tooth  of  Paul. 

There  are  shop  windows,  filled  with  pictures  in  oil, 
ink,  bronze,  stone  and  shell ;  cameos  and  medallions ; 
minature  ruins ;  temples  reduced  to  mantel  ornaments ; 
triumphal  arches  of  the  size  of  models;  monumental 
columns,  as  long  as  candles ;  sarcophagi  small  enough 
for  fairies;  chariots  which  crickets  might  sit  in  and 
drive ;  heads  of  pearl  and  hone,  strung  on  hemp  or  gold ; 
precious  stones  in  rings  and  bracelets ;  canes  in  bundles, 
like  fasces  or  faggots  ;  mosaics  perfect  as  paintings  and 
brilliant  as  jewels ;  rusty  coins  found  or  fabricated, 
and  for  sale  as  antique ;  lamps  which  may  have  lighted 
Oataline  or  Garibaldi ;  vases  from  Etrurian  ruins,  or 
modern  potteries.  Such  things  make  up  the  commerce 
of  the  Eternal  city. 

Branching  off,  and  picking  our  way  through  the  filth, 
cautiously  as  cats,  and  holding  up  our  skirts,  like 
women ;  breathing  an  air  which  was  not  fresh,  and 
smelling  odors  which  were  not  sweet;  we  passed  curves, 
and  corners,  and  alleys,  which  seemed  like  sewers ;  vast 
palaces  with  grated  windows,  strong  as  prisons,  where 
decayed  Italian  nobles  lived ;  old  arcades,  incrusted 
with  ordure,  and  alive  with  vermin  and  vagabonds ; 
crowds  of  children,  who  had  never  been  washed ;  an 
infinite  variety  of  cripples,  in  distress ;  mountaineers 
clad  in  skins  and  canvas,  picturesque  as  poetry  could 


ROME.  Ill 

wish,  playing  their  shrill  pipes,  such  perhaps  as  Virgil 
heard,  when  he  sang  their  pastoral  amours. 

We  climbed  the  Pincian  hill,  now,  as  of  old,  the  re 
sort  of  wealth  and  fashion ;  and  alive  with  whips,  and 
canes,  and  feet,  and  wheels.  The  Sabine  hills  were 
white  with  snow.  Roses  were  blooming  in  the  palace 
yards.  The  winter  of  forty-nine  was  the  most  rigorous 
there  for  twenty  years.  The  termagant  hucksters  in 
their  stalls,  and  the  multitudinous  beggars  on  their 
beats,  were  seen  warming  over  their  earthen  urns,  filled 
with  hot  coals  and  ashes,  the  only  Italian  stoves ;  cry 
ing,  in  the  meanwhile,  their  misfortunes,  and  their 
merchandise. 

We  stood  upon  the  capital  tower;  whence  the  eye 
sweeping  over  the  circuit  of  a  few  miles,  could  read  the 
eventful  history  of  the  Empire,  and  its  thousand  years 
duration.  The  old  piles  of  brick  and  marble,  the  single 
columns  which,  here  and  there,  still  stand  like  time's 
own  sentinels;  the  soil  which  bore  such  monuments,  and 
yet  bears  such  ruins,  are  more  eloquent  than  tongues  or 
books.  They  are  witnesses  of  a  nation's  power  and 
refinement,  errors  and  disasters ;  of  a  people,  grand  in 
genius,  imperfect  in  ethics,  foolish  in  faith;  whose 
policy  was  war;  whose  justice  was  victory;  whose  vir 
tue  was  courage ;  whose  religion  was  romance. 

There  are  fragments  of  temples,  dedicated  to  ideal 
creations,  to  passions,  and  to  chance. 

There,  fire  was  kept  in  perpetual  flame ;  and  there, 
augurs  watched  for  omens.  There,  triumphal  arcs  still 
span  the  ways,  and  commemorate  the  desolation  of  towns 
and  provinces.  There,  vast  walls  inclose  the  arena,  in 
which  brutal  combats  were  displayed,  and  chariots  raced, 


112  MISCELLANIES. 

and  Christians  were  torn  by  beasts.  There,  are  the  very 
pavements  of  those  great  roads,  over  which  passed  all  the 
imperial  pomp  and  power.  There,  are  the  dreary  dun 
geons,  where  kings  and  conspirators — Jugurtha  and 
Cethegus  were  starved  and  strangled  ;  and  where  they 
say  Paul  and  Peter  baptized  their  jailers,  from  that 
miraculous  spring,  which  still  bubbles  from  the  floor. 

Stupendous  acqueducts  stretch  across  the  Campagna, 
with  infinite  arches,  over  which  the  water  flowed  to  the 
ancient  fountains.  The  great  sewer,  through  which  a 
loaded  wain  can  pass,  still  drains,  as  it  did  two  thousand 
years  ago,  the  offal  of  the  city.  Outside  the  walls, 
amongst  dilapidated  tombs,  a  grand  sepulchral  castle 
frowns  over  Metella's  grave.  The  waters  of  Juturna, 
clear  as  air,  flow  where  the  twin  gods,  with  welcome 
tidings  from  the  shores  of  lake  Regillus,  refreshed 
their  foaming  steeds  and  vanished.  The  yellow  Tiber 
winds  amongst  the  old  foundations,  washing  the  foot  of 
Aventine ;  and  over  the  last  buttress  of  that  bridge, 
where  Codes,  with  his  single  valor,  kept  the  day  against 
Porsenna's  army. 

There  is  Adrain's  mole,  built  for  the  Emperor's  ashes 
—once  the  castle  of  the  Barons,  and  the  prison  of 
Beatrice  Cenci,  whose  mournful  loveliness,  Guide's 
pencil  has  preserved.  The  Egerian  grotto,  mantled 
with  dripping  fern,  recalls  the  beautiful  story  of  the 
enamored  goddess,  and  her  mortal  lover.  Other  re 
mains  of  better  days,  and  nobler  men  are  seen  at  every 
turn.  They  have  been  built  over  modern  dwellings  ; 
they  lie  loose  along  the  sidewalks ;  hang  feebly  to 
gether  ;  lean  against  later  walls ;  and  are  overgrown 
with  laurel,  as  if  nature  were  wreathing  them  a  garland. 


ROME.  113 

There  are  fields  of  fragments.  Shafts,  capitals  and 
cornices  are  strewn  about  beneath  the  feet  of  traveler, 
tradesman,  and  beast.  Buffalos,  introduced  from  the 
east,  by  Lorenzo,  the  magnificent  of  Florence,  feed  in 
the  Forum.  Oranges  hang,  like  Hesperian  apples,  from 
the  steep  Tarpeian  rock,  whence  aspiring  Manlius  was 
hurled.  Cabbages  are  growing  over  half  the  palaces  of 
the  Caesars.  On  the  arches  of  Nero's  golden  house ; 
once  adorned  with  a  thousand  columns,  with  halls  of 
pearl  and  gold,  and  refreshed  with  artificial  gales — 
troops  of  cattle  browse  on  garlic.  Horses  are  groomed 
in  the  mansion  of  Pilate.  Two  hundred  and  sixty  dif 
ferent  plants  bloom  on  the  walls  of  the  Colosseum. 
The  baths  of  Diocletian,  in  which  poets  recited,  and 
philosophers  discussed,  are  stored  with  hay.  Indul 
gence  is  written  over  the  entrance  to  the  Pantheon,  the 
ancient  temple  to  all  the  gods.  The  columns  of  the 
Emperors  are  crowned  with  effigies  of  saints.  A  rope 
walk  stretches  through  the  Basilica  of  Constantine. 
The  mausoleum  of  Augustus  is  a  modern  circus.  The 
gardens  of  Sallust  are  over  grown  with  reeds.  Vines 
are  trailed  over  the  accursed  field,  in  which  the  fallen 
Vestals  were  interred  alive. 

There  is  no  longer  the  glory  and  awe  of  empire. 
Fasces  and  games,  Muses  and  legions,  and  people  have 
been  displaced.  A  new  Rome  has  risen  on  the  seven 
hills.  With  a  wiser  worship,  but  of  little  secular  influ 
ence,  the  present  capital  is  among  the  last,  as  the  old, 
was  the  first  of  sovereignties.  And  though  without 
trade,  or  army ;  its  traditions,  its  remains,  its  master 
pieces  of  the  arts  ;  and  its  Christian  temples,  worthy  of 
ancient  enterprise,  still  make  it  the  Eternal  city. 


114  MISCELLANIES. 

There,  on  the  site  of  Nero's  circus,  where  the  mar 
tyrs  perished,  as  if  springing  from  their  blood,  rises  St. 
Peters.  It  is  constructed  on  a  scale  becoming  the  cap 
ital  of  Christendom  ;  from  such  resources  as  a  power 
deemed  to  hold  the  keys  of  heaven  could  command  ;  by 
the  labor  of  more  than  three  hundred  years.  It  was 
designed  by  the  ablest  artists ;  who  were  stimulated 
by  ambition  and  devotion,  to  build  for  posterity,  and 
eternity,  a  house  for  the  Deity,  which  should  contain 
the  pilgrim  population  of  the  world.  Its  dome,  soar 
ing  gracefully  towards  the  firmament ;  is  seen  for  scores 
of  miles,  from  the  mountains,  and  the  shores.  Its 
lofty  colonnades,  in  front,  crowned  with  two  hundred 
and  eighty  statues,  sweep  around  an  area,  in  which  an 
army  can  mancevure. 

Its  elegant  symmetry  conceals  its  extent.  The  col 
umns  of  the  facade,  though  colossal ;  and  the  pillars 
within,  though  large  as  chapels,  seem  of  ordinary  size. 
The  figures  of  the  cherubs,  apparently  so  small,  are 
huge  as  giants.  The  letters  on  the  walls  are  legible, 
though  long  as  spears.  Study  its  details.  Go  around 
its  inside  limits — it  is  a  walk  of  half  a  mile.  Survey 
its  vast  variegated  floor — it  is  measured  by  acres.  Be 
hold  its  bright  ceiling,  spreading  above  like  a  canopy 
of  gold — it  is  higher  than  the  forest  trees.  Stand  near 
the  high  altar,  and  the  Apostle's  tomb — the  centre  of 
the  loftiest  arch  is  nearly  four  hundred  feet  overhead. 

These  distances  and  proportions  are  as  harmonious 
as  they  are  immense ;  as  beautiful  in  part,  as  sublime 
in  combination.  One  is  no  less  charmed  by  the  deco 
rations  ;  the  eternal  pictures  in  mosaic,  and  the'finished 
groups  in  marble,  than  astonished  at  the  magnitude  of 


ROME.  115 

this  structure — the  grandest  ever  raised  to  God,  or  man, 
or  idol.  ^ 

Close  at  hand  is  the  Vatican,  with  aisles,  saloons  and 
chambers ;  itself  a  city,  populous  with  paintings  and 
statues.  There  is  the  Apollo,  beaming  with  super 
natural  beauty — love  and  light,  and  victory,  deified  in 
stone ! 

There  is  the  Laocoon,  with  pity  and  horror  disfigur 
ing  the  same  face ; — torture  and  affection  racking  the 
same  bosom ; — father  and  sons  in  one  peril,  and  in  one 
passion ; — despairing  and  dying,  in  the  same  monstrous 
folds. 

There  is  the  Saviour  transfigured,  faultless  and  first 
of  pictures ;  and  the  Sistine  chapel,  adorned  with  the 
last  judgment  of  mankind,  by  the  pencil  of  Buonarotti. 


A  VISIT  TO  THE  POPE, 

Driven  by  the  revolution  from  Rome,  Pope  Pius,  the 
Ninth,  sought  protection  and  hospitality  beneath  the 
flag  of  Naples.  And  though  the  Republic  of  Garibaldi 
had  been  overturned  by  the  Republic  of  Cavaignac  ; 
and  his  successor  kept  twenty  thousand  soldiers  in  the 
imperial  city  to  maintain  the  pontifical  rule — yet  his 
Holiness,  in  the  early  part  of  1850,  was  still  domiciled 
at  the  palace  of  Portici. 

There,  not  far  from  the  buried  theatre  of  Hercu- 
laneum ;  near  the  most  magnificent  bay  in  the  world ; 
and  at  the  base  of  burning  Vesuvius,  he  held  his  royal 
court.  Sometimes  he  might  be  met  in  the  highway, 
with  his  confidential  cardinal,  in  a  splendid  coach ;  ac 
companied  by  outriders,  and  troops  of  soldiers,  enjoy 
ing  the  winter  air. 

Having  a  letter  from  Dr.  Cullen,  now  Primate  of 
Ireland,  to  Monseigneur  De  Medici,  the  Pope's  Cham 
berlain,  I  went  to  see  him.  Passing  through  two  sets 
of  guards,  up  a  wide  stairway,  and  along  a  dreary  cor 
ridor,  I  was  shown  into  a  kind  of  ofiice,  where,  in  black 
priestly  robes,  were  M.  de  Medici,  and  his  secretaries. 
He  received  me  with  much  kindness.  When  about  to 
leave,  he  gave  me,  unsolicited,  a  note,  of  which  the  fol 
lowing  is  a  translation  : — 

(116) 


A   VISIT   TO   THE    POPE.  117 

ROYAL  PALACE  or  POETICI,  Jan.  22, 1850. 

The  undersigned,  Chamberlain  to  his  Holiness,  advises  Sig.  Ever- 
hart,  of  America,  that  his  Holiness  will  give  him  an  audience  on 
Wednesday,  the  23d  inst.,  at  10£  A.  M. 

The  Chamberlain  to  his  Holiness,  Ds  MEDICI. 

Concluding  to  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity ;  and 
inquiring  of  him  what  costume  would  be  appropriate, 
he,  good  humoredly,  said  :  "Wear  the  best  black  dress 
suit  you  have,  a  white  cravat,  and  no  gloves." 

On  the  appointed  day,  in  a  very  unostentatious  two 
horse  hack,  I  returned  to  the  Palace.  Arrived  at  the 
gates,  I  was  conducted,  by  an  official,  past  the  senti 
nels,  and  up  the  steps  to  a  small  waiting  room.  While 
a  sort  of  military  looking  gentleman,  with  a  sword,  was 
asking  about  my  impressions  of  Italy ;  Mons.  De 
Medici,  in  purple  robes,  and  his  secretary  in  black 
silk,  entered ;  and  greeted  me  politely,  but  did  not 
shake  hands.  I  accompanied  the  Chamberlain  through 
a  large  room,  hung  with  red  damask  drapery,  where 
several  officers,  in  various  uniforms,  were  standing  be 
fore  an  old  fashioned,  open,  wood  fire-place.  We 
passed  on  through  a  similar  room,  which  was  entirely 
vacant. 

The  Chamberlain  then  advanced  into  a  smaller  cham 
ber,  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  feet  square,  whose 
walls  were  lined  with  yellow  satin.  Presently,  he  took 
me  by  the  hand,  and  presented  me,  by  mentioning  my 
name  and  country  ;  and  retired.  I  was  then  left  alone 
with  the  Pope.  He  was  very  plainly  attired  in  a  long 
gown  of  white  cloth,  and  a  scull  cap,  and  seated  at  a 
writing  table.  As  I  approached  him,  bowing  cere 
moniously  three  times,  he  inclined  towards  me  with  a 


118  MISCELLANIES. 

smile.  His  figure  was  full,  tending  to  corpulency,  but 
did  not  seem  to  be  tall.  He  had  a  beautiful  face,  full 
of  intelligence,  and  almost  womanly  in  its  expression  of 
mildness.  It  was  not  furrowed  by  time,  nor  saddened 
by  misfortune. 

He  spoke  fluently,  in  French ;  his  voice  was  gentle, 
his  manner  cheerful.  He  inquired  about  the  health  of 
Dr.  Cullen,  what  countries  I  had  visited,  and  which  I 
preferred;  the  object  of  my  travels;  how  far  I  should  ex 
tend  them  ;  and  if  I  were  alone.  I  merely  responded. 
He  said  the  prosperous  condition  of  the  Church  in 
America  was  of  great  consolation  to  him  in  his  afflic 
tion.  The  interview  having  occupied  about  ten  minutes ; 
he  handed  me  a  souvenir,  as  he  termed  it.  It  was  a 
small  red  case  containing  a  medal,  with  his  own  effigy 
on  one  side,  and  the  Virgin's  on  the  other ;  around 
which  was  written,  Icetitice  nostrce  causa.  He  then  bow 
ed,  as  a  signal  for  leaving,  .and  keeping  my  face  towards 
him,  I  retired  as  formally  as  I  entered. 


NAPLES. 

In  the  winter  of  1850  I  was  in  Naples.  Part  of  the 
time  a  blazing  fire  of  olive  sticks  was  necessary.  Yet 
many  trees  were  then  green  with  leaves  ;  flowers  were 
blooming ;  the  limes  hung  ripe  and  yellow ;  and  hun 
dreds  of  indigenous  plants  shed  beauty  and  fragrance 
along  the  pleasant  promenades.  The  scenery  is  re 
markable.  The  circling  hills,  the  clear  heaven,  the 
fertile  earth,  the  boundless  sea,  the  burning  mountain, 
have  made  the  seat  of  Naples  famous  from  immemorial 
time.  Its  origin  is  lost  in  fable.  Before  Rome  rose  or 
Troy  fell,  Parthenope,  the  ancient  city,  looked  upon  this 
lovely  bay. 

The  neighboring  soil,  so  often  rocked  by  earthquakes, 
and  still  smouldering  with  hidden  fires,  is  strewed  with 
the  wrecks  of  classic  fanes  and  villas.  There  were  the 
haunts  of  the  Sibyls  and  Cimmerians,  of  Circe  and  the 
Syrens.  There  were  the  Elysian  fields,  and  Tartarus  ; 
the  Stygian  lake,  and  the  "infernal"  rivers.  There 
the  ancient  gallants  had  every  recreation  for  their  sum 
mer  hours — luxurious  baths,  gymnastic  games,  and 
festal  shows,  and  Grecian  art — delicious  fishes,  rich 
Falernian  wine,  and  oysters  from  the  Lucrine  lake. 
There  are  boiling  fountains ;  old  tunnels,  quarried 
through  hills  of  rock ;  grottos,  extending  through 

darkness    and    water,    none    knows    wither.      Fields, 

(119) 


120  NAPLES. 

sprinkled  with  alum  and  sulphur,  which  echo  to  the 
tread  like  vaults,  or  quiver  with  the  roar  of  internal 
wind  or  fire.  Caverns,  emitting  mephitic  gases  which 
give  dogs  convulsions.  Hills,  which  have  risen,  and 
shores  which  have  appeared,  since  the  crusades.  Lakes, 
over  which  no  bird  can  fly ;  and  Vesuvius  with  its  white 
crown  of  smoke,  and  in  the  evenings,  magnificent  with 
flames,  and  red  hot  stones,  and  streams  of  burning  lava. 

The  citizens  of  Naples  live  in  a  single  story  of  large 
houses,  whose  entrance  door  admits  a  carriage.  Hotels 
embrace  only  one  floor.  Barons  and  laborers  occupy 
different  flats,  under  the  same  roof;  and  shops  are  in 
the  basement  of  palaces.  Coral  and  lava  ornaments, 
olives  and  oil  are  staples  of  trade.  Food  and  clothing 
are  cheap,  though  the  nominal  prices  are  extravagant. 
Gold  is  scarce,  because  the  Jews,  they  say,  melt  it 
down  for  trinkets.  Servants  wear  cocked  hats  and 
swords. 

Begging  is  not  peculiar  to  the  poor,  or  the  maimed. 
The  man  who  sells  you  boots,  the  idler  who  directs  your 
way,  the  sister  from  the  convent,  who  goes  veiled ;  as 
well  as  the  waiter  in  the  cafe,  and  the  driver  of  the  cab, 
ask  you  for  a  present.  Lazaroni,  unclean  and  lazy, 
lie,  like  snakes  or  negroes,  on  the  sunny  sides  of  streets, 
redolent  of  garlic.  The  wives  of  fishers  sit  knitting 
nets  outside  of  the  doors.  Vagabonds  are  seen  search 
ing  one  another's  heads  with  a  fidelity  they  exhibit  in 
no  other  pursuit. 

The  donkeys  are  as  small  as  dogs,  and  carry  every 
imaginable  commodity — barrels,  dry  goods,  manure, 
stones,  wood,  vegetables,  furniture  and  haystacks. 
They  are  often  without  halters,  but  always  with  crup- 


NAPLES.  121 

pers ;  and  the  driver,  when  he  rides  on  the  load,  uses 
the  tail  for  a  bridle. 

The  Galesso,  a  vehicle  with  two  high  wheels,  is  drawn 
by  one  horse  ;  whose  gears,  and  a  weathercock  over  the 
saddle,  glitter  with  brass  nails.  The  shafts  are  raised 
nearly  a  foot  above  the  horse's  back.  It  has  a  seat  for 
two  persons,  but  it  carries  a  mob.  The  capuchin  in 
his  cowl,  the  priest  in  black  robe,  women  in  red  shawls 
and  wooden  shoes,  porters  and  hawkers  of  nuts  and 
fruits,  and  others,  nearly  a  score,  pay  a  penny  a-piece ; 
and  hang  to  the  springs,,  the  seat,  the  stirrups,  and  the 
axle,  as  it  rushes  headlong  through  the  streets. 

The  San  Carlos  opera  house  is  unequaled  for  size. 
On  the  King's  birth  night,  it  was  bright  with  gold  and 
candles.  The  King,  a  large  young  man,  with  a  dull, 
unpleasant  countenance,  wore  a  military  coat,  and  bow 
ed  distrustfully  to  the  applause  which  greeted  him. 
His  queen  and  his  mother  were  present ;  and  their  hair, 
their  arms,  and  their  busts  blazed  with  diamonds.  The 
audience  were  in  full  dress.  White  cravats  and  gloves, 
military  feathers  and  epaulettes,  lace  and  flowers,  re 
presented  all  the  aristocracies  of  profession,  rank  and 
beauty;  and  the  rarest  music  of  orchestra  and. actors, 
charmed  away  the  hours. 

One  day  an  officer's  funeral  passed  the  Hotel.  The 
corpse,  in  uniform  and  uncovered,  was  borne  on  mens' 
shoulders.  It  was  escorted  by  two  priests  in  black, 
and  several  monks  completely  masked  in  white,  except 
the  eyes ;  one  of  whom  held  up  the  cross.  A  proces 
sion,  with  religious  banners,  followed,  all  bearing 
torches  in  their  hands,  and  chanting  as  they  marched. 

.•OHUit^'fifi;  :«f^W   \    II M  -  I': 

11 


VESUVIUS  AND  POMPEII. 

From  Resina,  a  small  village,  we  started  on  horseback 
for  the  top  of  Vesuvius.  There  were  then  evident  signs 
of  an  imminent  eruption.  With  a  fellow  hanging  to 
each  pony's  tail ;  passing  through  groups  of  children  and 
mendicants  ;  by  vines  and  mulberries  ;  round  curves  and 
over  stones ;  racing  and  shouting,  we  reached  the  hermi 
tage.  The  air  was  pleasant,  the  view  vast  and  splendid  ; 
the  wine  sweet,  and  piously  recommended  as  "  the  tears 
of  Christ." 

Passing  hence  over  waves  of  lava,  which  seemed  to 
have  frozen  as  they  heaved ;  we  gained  the  base  of  a 
declivity,  which  no  beast  could  climb.  We  dismounted, 
and  up  the  long  slippery  steep ;  over  pumice  rocks  ; 
ankle  deep  in  ashes ;  leaning  on  sticks ;  clutching  at 
loose  cinders ;  sliping  over  patches  of  snow ;  amidst  the 
importunities  of  beggars,  guides  and  hucksters,  we 
toiled ;  perspired,  and  stopped.  Refreshed  with  rest  and 
lunch  ;  after  many  falls  and  bruises  ;  red  in  the  face  ; 
panting  and  exhausted,  we  stood  on  the  old  crater. 

It  extended  around  like  a  plain,  the  surface  was 
broken  by  small  elevations,  and  deep  glowing  fissures. 
Having  ascended  higher,  we  glanced  down  into  the  huge 
volcanic  furnace.  This  crater  was  vast  in  its  circuit, 
high  above  the  sea,  indefinitely  deep.  The  blaze,  the 
roar,  the  missiles,  and  the  quivering  crust  were  appalling. 

(122) 


VESUVIUS   AND   POMPEII.  123 

Explosions  broke  forth  with  the  noise  of  a  thousand 
gnns.  The  whole  mountain  trembled.  Sulphurous 
smoke  issued  out  in  clouds.  Flames  of  red  and  blue 
surged  against  the  sloping  sides.  The  molten  lava 
heaved  up  and  overflowed,  threatening  the  vineyards  and 
villages  below.  Vollies  of  stones  shot  up  like  rockets, 
and  came  rattling  back,  burning  as  they  fell.  One 
person  was  struck  in  the  face  ;  another  one  on  the  hand ; 
and  that  night,  another  was  fatally  injured.  Far  below 
us  were  seen  the  shores  so  often  desolated  by  former 
eruptions. 

We  descended,  and  visited  the  theatre  of  Herculaneum, 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  ground ;  gloomy  but  well 
preserved.  We  wandered  through  Pompeii,  along  the 
lava  paved  streets ;  across  which  a  man  could  leap, 
and  which  still  show  the  ruts  of  chariot  wheels.  The 
houses  are  generally  of  brick,  and  small ;  some  with 
mosaic  floors,  with  baths,  and  courts,  and  fountains,  and 
painted  walls.  The  Forum  abounds  with  temples  and 
columns,  in  various  stages  of  decay.  The  theatres  with 
stone  seats,  with  entrances,  and  aisles  seem  almost 
uninjured. 

But  all  was  silent  and  empty.  For  eighteen  hundred 
years  these  buildings  have  had  no  occupants ;  these 
sidewalks  have  been  untrodden  ;  this  town  has  had  no 
hum  of  voices,  and  no  sound  of  busy  life.  No  idle  crowds 
go  greeting  through  the  market.  No  devotees  climb  the 
steps  of  marble  fanes.  No  fires  consume  upon  the  al 
tars.  No  sentinel,  "  helmed  and  tall,"  stands  by  the 
gateway.  No  combat  stains  the  arena.  The  clatter  of 
hoofs,  the  voice  of  eloquence,  the  song  of  joy,  the  wail  of 
woe,  the  strife  of  trade,  the  pomp  of  festivals,  have  disap- 


124  MISCELLANIES. 

peared.  Orator  and  augur,  athlete  and  author,  toga 
and  stola,  Lares  and  Penates,  pageant  and  people  have 
passed  away.  Snakes  and  foxes  have  their  dens  in  this 
once  pleasant  city  of  the  Classic  Empire. 

In  the  museum  at  Naples,  are  collected  some  of  the 
relics  of  the  buried  towns.  The  sculpture  which  adorned 
their  porticos.  Pictured  vases  and  articles  in  stone, 
and  the  precious  metals,  which  furnished  their  parlors. 
Bottles  in  which  they  preserved  their  tears.  The  urns 
which  held  their  dust.  The  silver  mirrors  of  their  toi 
lettes.  Papyrus  on  which  they  wrote.  Gold  rings  and 
bracelets  of  the  women.  Necklaces  of  their  nobles.  A 
chariot  of  iron  and  leather.  Their  bronze  lamps  and 
oil.  The  metal  spoons,  and  plate  of  their  table.  The 
wine  and  bread  of  which  they  ate  and  drank. 

These  have  been  taken  from  the  ruins  caused  by  the 
first  eruption  of  the  mountain,  in  A.  D.  79.  Previously, 
all  the  neighboring  slopes  and  shores  were  remarkable 
for  their  culture  and  population.  Virgil,  in  the  Geor- 
gics,  speaks  of  the  fitness  of  Vesuvius  for  olives  and 
vines.  Strabo  describes  it  in  the  same  way,  except  the 
summit,  which  was  barren.  Martial  celebrates  it  as  the 
haunt  of  Bacchus,  and  where  temples  stood  to  Venus, 
and  to  Hercules.  Tacitus  also  tells  how  its  beauty  was 
marred  by  the  ravages  of  volcanic  fire.  Pliny  alludes 
to  the  numerous  towns  and  villas  that  were  overwhelmed, 
by  the  eruption  which  he  witnessed. 

In  a  letter  to  Tacitus,  he  says  ;  that  a  curious  cloud  of 
smoke,  in  the  shape  of  a  pine  tree,  rose  over  the  mountain. 
That  his  uncle  hastened,  with  the  fleet-  under  his  com 
mand,  to  rescue  the  people,  who  were  flying  terror 
stricken,  in  all  directions.  That  great  black  hot  rocks 


VESUVIUS   AND   NAPLES.  125 

rolled  down  to  the  water,  and  showers  of  burning  ashes 
fell  upon  the  vessels.  That  having  landed  at  Stabiae, 
they  were  obliged  to  abandon  the  falling  houses,  and 
resort  to  the  fields ;  with  pillows  on  their  heads,  to 
protect  them  from  the  pelting  stones.  That  returning 
to  the  coast,  the  violence  of  the  waves  prevented  their 
embarkation.  That  a  sulphurous  vapour  prevailed, 
which  they  avoided  by  lying  on  their  faces,  with  wet 
napkins  to  their  mouths.  That  his  uncle  rising,  fell 
down  suffocated.  That  three  or  four  days  passed  in 
darkness,  with  no  light  but  the  occasional  flames  from 
the  volcano,  and  the  moving  torches  of  distracted  people. 


THE  ESCURIAL. 

This  mass  of  masonry  is  not  far  from  Madrid,  and 
represents  a  convent,  sepulchre,  and  palace.  It  was 
designed  for  the  honor  of  a  saint ;  on  whose  day  a  victory 
was  won ;  and  according  to  the  plan  of  a  gridiron,  on 
which  he  died  a  martyr.  It  was  built  by  the  first  archi 
tect,  under  the  most  potent  Prince,  and  in  the  palmiest 
time  of  Spain. 

It  is  a  huge  pile  of  dark  gray  granite  like  the  hills 
behind  it ;  with  plain  rectangular  walls  unusually  thick  ; 
pierced  with  little  prison  windows ;  and  covers  an  area 
nearly  equal  to  the  base  of  the  largest  pyramid.  It  has 
four  square  towers,  tapering  into  slender  spires ;  an 
oblong  addition  to  one  side,  representing  the  feet  and 
handle  of  the  model ;  three  stone  belfries  rising  from 
the  centre ;  and  two  rows  of  Doric  columns  over  the 
front  entrance.  Its  extent,  height,  and  sombre  hue 
make  it  an  imposing  feature  in  the  landscape. 

In  the  interior  are  numerous  courts,  with  fountains, 
and  statues,  and  alleys  paved,  or  sanded.  Grand  stair 
ways  and  corridors,  wide  enough  for  coaches  to  pass,  are 
arched  over,  and  adorned  with  pictures,  in  fresco  and  on 
canvas.  The  chambers  of  the  monks  are  plain  and 
small.  The  saloons  of  the  monarch  are  floored  with 
costly  wood  and  marble,  and  lined  with  tapestry  and 
satin.  The  vaults  vie  with  those  of  Thebes,  in  splendor, 

(126) 


THE    ESCURIAL.  127 

but  not  in  size  ;  precious  stones  flash  light  from  the 
walls  ;  and  elaborate  urns  contain  the  jeweled  sculls  of 
Kings.  Jasper  columns,  lofty  domes,  and  tesselated 
pavements  adorn  the  chapel.  Few  worshipers  are  seen  ; 
occasionally,  a  woman  wearing  a  mantilla  veil,  kneels  be 
fore  the  virgin.  The  Priests  slip  along  in  soft  sandals  to 
perform  the  morning  mass. 

The  loneliness  is  oppressive.  The  Monks  have  passed 
away,  and  Royalty  returns  no  more.  The  long  cloisters 
hardly  yield  a  sound,  except  the  footfall  of  the  stranger. 
The  shady  pebbled  walks  are  overgrown  ;  and  fragrant 
plants  waste  their  sweetness,  like  the  desert  flowers. 
Behind  are  barren  mountains  ;  before,  are  barren  plains, 
and  all  around  are  signs  of  decay.  Capacious  houses 
are  near  ;  many  were  never  finished  ;  some  are  in  ruins  ; 
most  are  deserted.  Weeds  cling  upon  the  walls  ;  bats 
and  lizards  peer  from  the  crevices  ;  storks  beat  their 
wings  upon  the  chimines  ;  lean  black  pigs  root  along  the 
alleys  ;  goats  browse  in  the  grassy  streets,  and  dogs  and 
shepherds  keep  watch  from  the  empty  doorways. 


A  BULL  FIGHT  IN  MADRID. 

A  bull  fight  reminds  us  of  those  exhibitions  of  the 
Colosseum,  to  which  the  populace  crowded,  on  the  holi 
days  of  Rome.  The  city  of  Madrid  was  unusually 
animated,  on  the  afternoon  when  we  witnessed  that 
cruel  sport.  The  streets  were  filled  with  a  confused 
throng,  driving,  riding,  and  on  foot. 

Some  were  in  carriages,  with  arms  and  coronets  on 
the  panels,  and  liveried  lackeys  behind.  In  little 
gigs,  painted  like  tea  boxes,  with  a  seat  for  one,  con 
taining  five ;  and  the  driver  running  by  the  side.  In 
cabs,  with  calico  tops,  and  seats  and  bottoms  made  of 
matting.  In  omnibuses,  drawn  by  mules  shaved  like 
Moslem  heads,  and  covered  with  red  tassels  and  brass 
bells.  On  horses,  with  long  flowing  tails,  stepping  with 
the  grace  of  true  Cordovian  barbs.  On  donkeys,  wag 
ging  their  long  ears  over  their  innocent  noses  and  de 
jected  eyes ;  humble  as  politicians  broken  down. 

Pedestrians  in  various  costumes ;  mingling  silk  and 
rags  ;  breathing  garlic  and  cologne.  Lovely  senoritas, 
with  round  warm  faces,  with  mantillas  instead  of  bon 
nets,  and  fans  for  parasols.  Men  in  cloaks  and  shawls, 
with  hats  in  the  shape  of  turbans,  embroidered  jackets, 
leathern  gaiters,  and  sashes  of  red  or  yellow.  Some 
merely  in  shirts,  and  muslin  breeches  reaching  to  the 
knees.  Some  gaily  dressed  with  straps  and  eye-glass, 

(128) 


A    BULL    FIGHT    IN    MADRID.  129 

like  the  last  pictures  in  the  tailor  shops.  Little  boys, 
and  little  girls,  running  loose,  or  carried  in  the  arms. 
Old  people,  without  teeth ;  beggars  and  cripples,  with 
their  sores  and  filth.  Water  carriers,  with  tin  cases 
and  clay  jars ;  street  dancers,  with  castanets ;  street 
sweepers  and  their  brooms.  Mule  barbers,  with  shears 
in  their  girdles.  Shepherds  in  sheepskins,  from  the 
mountains ;  policemen,  with  feathered  hats ;  blind  harp 
ers  ;  distracted  strangers ;  brigands  in  disguise. 

All  were  passing  onward,  through  the  many  sultry 
avenues,  out  the  city  gates,  to  the  scene  of  blood  and 
danger ;  to  applaud  or  hiss  a  poor  dumb  beast,  or  more 
pitiable  man.  The  seats  around  the  enclosure,  rising 
like  stairs,  were  soon  filled.  Thirteen  thousand  heads 
were  piled  one  above  another ;  moving  as  many  tongues 
in  shouts  and  laughter ;  and  twice  as  many  eyes,  for 
curiosity  or  conquest.  There  were  opera  curls  and 
opera  glasses ;  white  gloves  and  white  cravats ;  the 
waving  of  colored  paper  fans ;  and  the  smoke  of  paper 
segars ;  and  the  cries  of  hucksters,  vending  fire,  oranges 
and  water.  There  was  the  royal  box,  with  rich  cur 
tains  ;  unoccupied,  for  the  Queen  was  indisposed. 
Next  to  it,  sat  the  Governor  of  the  town  and  his 
council.  All  along  were  deputies,  ministers,  high  mili 
tary  officers,  noblemen,  and  ambassadors — the  blood 
and  distinction  of  the  city. 

The  sand  was  sprinkled,  soon  to  be  stained.  Now 
a  trumpet  sounds.  A  dozen  men  enter — some  on  foot, 
richly  clad  in  silk  and  gold,  with  colored  mantles  on 
their  arms — three  mounted,  with  their  legs  in  iron 
greaves,  and  blunt  lances,  made  to  wound,  not  kill.  A 


130  MISCELLANIES. 

subordinate,  in  short  black  cloak  and  ostrich  plumes, 
receives  a  key  from  the  Acalde. 

Another  trumpet — and  the  bull  bounds  from  his  dark 
den  into  the  arena.  He  quivers  at  first  with  fear ;  or 
is  bewildered  by  the  sudden  light,  and  the  uproar  of 
the  scene.  Provoked  by  the  matadores,  who  close 
around  him  their  dazzling  shawls,  he  lashes  his  sides ; 
paws  the  dust ;  his  red  eyes  glare  defiance,  and  with  a 
terrific  roar,  he  rushes  headlong  amongst  his  foes.  But 
in  vain. 

They  leap  out  of  his  course  ;  or  on  his  back  ;  or  over 
the  barrier ;  or  throw  a  cloak  on  his  head.  More  furi 
ous  from  vexation,  he  plunges  towards  a  horseman — 
nor  stops  for  the  lance  which  pierces  his  shoulder — nor 
turns  aside  for  the  cunning  mantle,  until  he  buries  his 
huge  horns  in  the  warm  body  of  the  steed ;  tossing  him 
and  his  rider,  like  toys,  upon  the  ground. 

Then  ensues  a  sight  which  makes  one  sick  at  heart. 
The  wounded  beast  is  remounted,  and  urged  on  afresh. 
The  blood  is  flowing  audibly  from  his  gored  chest ;  or 
still  worse,  his  ragged  bowels  hang  dripping  from  his 
side ;  or  trail  along  the  sand,  until  torn  away  by  the 
tramp  of  his  own  hoofs — and  he  falls — a  shocking, 
mangled  mass  ;  besmearing  the  rider  and  the  ring  with 
his  reeking  corpse. 

The  bull  is  diverted  to  an  opposite  quarter,  and  at 
tacks  another  horse.  He  throws  him  backward  on  his 
haunches ;  or  breaks  his  leg ;  or  rips  the  hide  half  off 
his  breast ;  or  gives  him  a  mortal  thrust ;  that  he  rears, 
springs,  and  dies.  Thus  he  may  have  killed  a  fourth 
or  fifth ;  when  weary  and  weak ;  with  bleeding  neck 
and  lolling  tongue ;  familiar  with  the  game ;  content 


A   BULL   FIGHT   IN   MADRID.  131 

with  triumph,  he  stands  at  bay ;  and  awaits,  but  does 
not  court  the  combat. 

The  crowd  become  impatient,  and  the  trumpet  sounds. 
Bearded  darts,  in  painted  papers,  are  daringly  and  dex 
terously  planted  in  his  shoulders.  These,  charged  with 
percussion  powder,  instantly  explode,  but  still  cling  to 
the  hide,  and  sting  him  to  madness.  He  jumps ;  tosses 
his  head  ;  bellows  with  rage  and  pain ;  strikes  against 
the  barrier ;  leaps  on  or  over  it,  and  stamps  amongst 
the  carcasses  around  him,  till  he  is  almost  exhausted. 

Again,  there  is  a  signal.  The  matadore  bowing  to 
the  Director,  pale  with  excitement;  or  flush  with  con 
fidence,  like  an  ambitious  player,  approaches  to  per 
form  the  closing  act.  A  successful  blow  may  win  a 
mistress,  a  fortune,  or  a  name.  A  blunder  may  cause 
his  death ;  will  provoke  the  hooting  of  the  mob,  and 
throw  confusion  on  his  hopes. 

Long  he  shakes  his  crimson  shawl,  and  points  his 
glittering  spear,  and  often  strikes  in  vain.  The  wary 
brute  becomes  aggressive,  and  sometimes  nearly  victor. 
But  in  an  instant,  the  steel  point  appears  beneath  the 
shoulder — it  is  not  fatal — another  weapon  is  sheathed  in 
his  body — yet  he  still  carries  them,  and  still  stands  un- 
conquered,  though  failing  from  half  a  hundred  wounds. 

Another  blow  and  the  last.  The  blood  spouts  from 
his  nostrils — he  groans — he  reels — he  stumbles — he 
falls!  The  matadore  bows — the  people  shout — ladies 
wave  their  handkerchiefs — and  mules,  with  flags  and 
ribbons,  haul  away  the  carcasses,  amidst  the  lively 
strains  of  martial  music. 


132  MISCELLANIES. 

Thus  battle  after  battle  proceeds.  Perhaps  a  dozen 
horses,  and  half  as  many  bulls  are  slain,  before  the  sun 
goes  down  on  this  barbarian  sport ;  and  the  burning  of 
the  paper  fans,  and  the  final  blast  of  the  bugle,  tell 
when  the  satiated  crowd  retire. 


THE  ORIENT. 

A  fascination  has  always  been  connected  with  the 
East.  It  is  the  "  morning  land,"  where  Aurora  with  her 
rosy  fingers  opens  the  gates  of  day.  Whence  the  light 
of  knowledge  and  religion  first  beamed  upon  the  world. 
Where  the  human  race  was  cradled — society  formed — 
government  organized — the  ground  first  tilled — property 
acquired — labor  paid — nature  studied — truth  adored. 

Towards  it,  commerce  has  ever  been  seeking  new 
routes.  To  it,  military  ambition  has  always  tended  for 
glory  and  dominion.  It  is  endeared  to  us  by  the  story 
books  of  childhood  ;  by  the  delicious  coloring  of  ro 
mance  ;  by  the  honest  claims  of  history ;  by  the  miracles 
of  God. 

It  has  been  described  as  a  land  of  songs  and  birds,  of 
bards  and  seers,  of  love  and  indolence — where  the  skies 
are  pearl,  the  waters  nectar,  the  forests  perfume,  the 
winds  music — 

"  Where  the  virgins  are  lovely  as  the  roses  they  twine, 
And  all,  save  the  spirit  of  man  is  divine." 

The  traveler  realizes  a  different  picture.  He  finds 
desolation  as  well  as  abundance ;  a  luxurious  climate, 
but  a  wretched  civilization ;  dark,  dull  countenances, 
and  strange  customs  which  never  alter.  Every  thing 
tends  to  surprise  him.  There,  boys  and  girls  of  twelve 
years  old  marry  without  love  ;  and  the  dead  are  buried 

(133)  12 


134  MISCELLANIES. 

without  coffins.  The  people  sit  on  their  ancles,  sleep  in 
their  clothes ;  and  carry  their  bed  on  their  arm.  They 
have  no  prejudice  against  color,  and  none  against  dirt. 
They  dig  the  earth  with  their  hands,  and  wash  clothes 
with  their  feet.  Many  of  them  have  only  one  eye,  and 
only  nine  fingers.  The  servant  runs  ahead  of  the  mas 
ter,  and  the  donkey  is  driven  by  the  tail.  The  cur 
rency  is  in  specie,  the  lowest  coin  is  worth  one  fifth  of 
a  cent ;  and  the  laborer  is  paid  a  sixpence  a  day. 

They  keep  their  head  covered,  but  take  off  their  slip 
pers,  when  they  enter  a  house.  Children  are  carried  on 
the  shoulders,  and  not  in  the  arms ;  and  mourners  go 
about  in  white.  The  poor  run  barefoot  ;  and  trades  are 
transmitted  with  the  blood.  The  butter  is  made  of 
goat's  milk — the  bottles  of  goat's  skin.  The  officials 
all  take  bribes ;  and  the  law  puts  a  price  on  crime. 
Spectacles  and  umbrellas,  are  rarely  seen ;  and  wheel 
barrows  are  unknown. 

The  shops  have  no  signs  ;  the  streets  no  sidewalks ; 
the  houses  no  carpets  ;  the  fields  no  fences.  The  violin 
has  only  two  strings ;  and  the  fiddler,  elsewhere,  would 
attract  the  stones  of  the  streets,  but  not  like  Orpheus. 
They  hang  pieces  of  their  garments  on  trees,  to  cure 
their  maladies.  Constables  carry  whips  instead  of  pis 
tols — the  horses  wear  bells  and  beads.  The  bridle  bit 
is  shaped  like  a  cross — the  stirrups  resemble  coal 
shovels — the  shoe  like  a  ring  covers  all  the  foot,  but  the 
frog.  The  khans,  or  taverns  furnish  nothing  but 
chambers  and  vermin — the  guest  finds  his  own  couch, 
and  cooks  his  own  meals.  He  must  bargain  with  the 
thieves,  and  pay  one,  to  protect  him  from  the  others. 


THE   ORIENT.  135 

The  men  wear  a  sort  of  petticoat  and  turbans,  instead 
of  hats.  The  women  wear  a  sort  of  trowsers,  and  veils 
instead  of  bonnets.  The  latter  dye  their  nails  and  eyes, 
to  make  them  handsome.  The  former  shave  their  heads, 
to  make  them  cool.  Both  sexes  smoke — neither  chews, 
tobacco.  Everybody  likes  ottar  of  roses,  and  everybody 
smells  of  garlic. 

The  windows  are  seldom  glazed  with  glass.  They 
thresh  grain  by  driving  a  sled  over  the  sheaves.  They 
grind  flour,  by  hand,  in  a  mortar.  The  carpenter  holds 
the  board  which  he  saws,  by  his  toes.  Nobody  is  in 
dustrious,  but  the  flies  and  the  fleas.  None  are  inde 
pendent,  but  the  dogs.  None  are  useful,  but  the  camels 
and  asses. 


ORATION  ON  THE  22d  FEBRUARY,  1848. 

It  is  not  without  diffidence,  that  one  rises  in  so  large 
and  enlightened  a  presence — blest  with  gallantry  and 
beauty,  gay  colors,  and  sweet  music — gathered  from  no 
compulsory  influence  ;  from  no  motive  of  sectional  in 
terest,  or  sectarian  prejudice,  or  party  policy,  or  per 
sonal  advantage.  But  met  from  the  spontaneous  im 
pulse  of  hearts,  exhilirated  with  patriotic  associations  ; 
to  commemorate  the  noblest  example  of  humanity  which 
the  world  ever  displayed. 

Admiration  for  whatever  is  great  and  good,  is  a 
prominent  attribute  of  the  human  mind.  Pure  in  its 
source,  and  salutary  in  its  influence,  it  gives  a  redeem 
ing  charm  to  man's  fallen  nature,  and  measurably 
counteracts  his  continual  proclivity  to  evil  and  error. 
It  is  as  universal  as  reflection.  It  is  witnessed  in  every 
period  of  social  progress,  and  every  stage  of  individual 
development.  It  glows  like '  a  flame  in  the  buoyant 
breast  of  youth,  and  warms  with  enthusiasm  the  failing 
faculties  of  age.  Communities  and  countries  feel  its 
control,  and  acknowledge  it,  by  manifestations  the  most 
signal,  and  conspicuous. 

This  holiday  proclaims  and  illustrates  the  principle. 
It  is  living  evidence,  and  will  be  through  coming  years, 
of  national  regard  for  virtue.  Its  observance  gives  a 
perpetual  promise  to  worth,  and  an  incessant  spur  to 

(136) 


ORATION.  137 

duty.  It  teaches,  with  an  authority  more  potent  than 
the  schools,  with  an  eloquence  more  magical  than  man's, 
the  true  philosophy  of  life.  It  addresses  every  sense ; 
arrests  the  usual  course  of  thought ;  revives  or  creates 
impressions  of  brilliant  events ;  recalls  for  contempla 
tion  a  character,  which  has  wrung  fame  from  the  mis 
anthrope  and  the  cynic  ;  which  has  received  unanimous 
and  unqualified  applause,  and  formed  an  era,  and  re 
mains  a  model,  in  the  history  of  the  race. 

Great  qualities  had  been  observed  before.  Great 
achievements  had  been  accomplished  in  every  field  of 
human  energy  and  devotion,  and  the  earth  was  dotted 
with  monuments  to  great  names.  There  had  been 
patriotism  which  immolated  the  heart  that  cherished  it 
— courage,  which  sought  danger  as  the  wassailer  seeks 
the  revel  and  the  bowl — virtue,  which  passed  like  the 
prophet,  in  triumph,  through  the  flames — genius,  which 
seemed  to  survey  the  intellectual  world,  as  with  the 
vision  of  an  angel.  Yet,  these  were  isolated  traits,  or 
mixed  with  wrong,  or  cursed  with  baser  passions. 

But  here,  was  an  unalloyed  concentration  of  the  use 
ful  elements  of  human  nature.  Such  as  men  had 
imagined,  yet  of  whose  reality  they  had  never  been 
assured.  The  past  is  sought  in  vain — wherever  occasion 
had  required  or  exhibited  great  powers — the  grove,  the 
portico,  the  agora,  the  temple,  the  games,  the  triumph, 
the  palace,  the  senate ;  even  ancient  Olympus  itself, 
trembling  with  the  innumerable  thrones  of  mortals 
deified,  yielded  no  type  nor  fellow. 

Heroes  before  had  flourished  and  perished.  Some  had 
written  their  deeds  in  blood  ;  forged  their  names  in  fire  ; 
cast  down  great  empires.  Some  had  framed  wise  rules 


138  MISCELLANIES. 

of  civil  action,  to  unite  and  preserve  communities. 
Some  had  charmed  mankind  by  beautiful  embodiments 
of  imagination,  and  thrilling  descriptions  of  feelings, 
thoughts  and  truths.  Some  had  lifted  the  veil  from 
physical  mysteries,  and  displayed  the  sublime  theology 
of  nature.  But  no  other,  than  our  own  national  father 
had  been  so  proved  in  emergency  ;  in  peril ;  in  toil ;  in 
temptation — had  done  such  precious  service — had  accom 
plished  so  much,  so  well. 

Positive  and  pre-eminent  in  his  merits,  he  appeared 
to  unite  all  the  charms  and  graces  with  which  the  muse 
loves  to  adorn  her  creations.  In  him,  were  illustrated 
the  wisest  maxims  of  the  teachers,  and  the  purest  pre 
cepts  of  the  books.  Faults  in  man  to  be  expected,  in 
him,  had  no  place.  Traits  of  excellence,  rare  alone, 
were  in  him,  combined  ;  and  their  rays  happily  blend 
ing  in  one  radiant  glow,  shone  like  a  miracle,  attesting 
the  mission  he  was  charged  with.  He  was,  indeed,  a 
living  revelation ;  and  the  seals  of  his  authority  were 
with  him ;  impressed  upon  his  life  by  the  very  auto 
graph  of  God. 

He  was  to  be  an  example  at  which  reproach  could 
not  point  its  finger  ;  which  envy  could  not  depreciate  ; 
by  which  ambition  might  learn  the  lesson  of  benevo 
lence  ;  pride,  the  merit  of  humility ;  and  truth  be  jus 
tified  of  her  offspring.  He  was  to  harmonize  discordant 
sentiments ;  direct  wayward  sympathies  to  a  single 
object;  inspire  capability  with  faith  in  itself ;  unite  in 
a  common  cause,  with  a  simultaneous  impulse,  energies 
distracted  and  conflicting ;  and  retrieve  the  lost  sov 
ereignty  of  individual  man.  He  was  to  be  an  instru 
ment  of  political  salvation. 


ORATION.  139 

Before  his  influence  was  felt,  every  government  had 
failed  to  promote  the  common  weal.  Every  kind  of 
rule,  which  avoided  oppression,  was  unfit  to  protect. 
Power  was  the  companion  of  tyranny.  Liberty  and 
security  appeared  to  be  incompatible. 

The  masses  exercised  no  rights  :  and  their  whole  duty 
was  submission.  They  were  without  responsibility,  and 
without  choice.  No  provision  was  made  for  their  inter 
est  ;  no  consideration  was  given  to  their  opinion. 
Their  claims  to  participation  were  treated  with  derision. 
Their  prayers  for  relief  were  rebuked  by  accumulated 
wrong.  Justice,  withheld  its  dues  ;  charity,  its  allow 
ance.  If  they  had  not  suffered,  they  should  have  re 
sisted.  If  their  condition  had  been  easy,  it  was  yet 
degrading ;  for  it  implied  the  principle  of  subjection, 
and  acknowledged  their  incapacity. 

But  these  relations  were  to  be  changed.  The  world 
had  grown  wiser  and  better.  It  became  actuated  by 
new  spirits,  and  practical  aims.  The  temple  gates  of 
knowledge  had  been  wide  open  flung  ;  and  the  common 
mind  had  entered.  New  sentiments  were  developed  and 
diffused  ;  information  was  scattered  abroad  ;  the  bread 
had  been  cast  upon  the  waters,  and  the  time  of  its 
gathering  was  at  hand. 

Signal  results  appeared ;  an  altered  Order  of  events 
followed.  Fictions,  gave  way  to  facts ;  words,  to 
things ;  students  of  the  cloister,  to  students  of  the 
world  ;  schoolmen  to  statesmen.  The  doctrine  of  equal 
rights  was  investigated  and  asserted.  The  presumption 
of  the  dominant  few  was  assailed.  Sacrifices  were 
anticipated  without  alarm,  and  endured  without  regret. 


140  MISCELLANIES. 

Death  was  deemed  milder  than  tribute  ;  life  was  not  to 
be  compared  with  principle. 

Force,  wealth,  birth,  station,  and  prescription  no 
longer  constituted  pre-eminence.  Badges,  the  robe,  the 
mitre,  the  crown,  the  sword  became  equally  disregarded 
and  despised,  as  the  emblems  of  merit,  and  the  means 
of  control.  The  superstitions,  which  time  had  almost 
hallowed ;  the  prejudices  of  the  throne  ;  the  bigotry  of 
the  church,  declined.  The  mystery  which  invested  an 
cient  forms :  the  obscurity  which  concealed  ancient  error, 
disappeared.  The  explosion  of  false  dogmas,  and  the 
wholesome  effects  of  contending  castes  and  creeds,  suc 
ceeded. 

On  a  new  soil  arose  the  struggle  of  republicanism. 
Society  was  shaken  with  the  strife  of  hostile  systems 
and  relations.  Returning  gloom  and  confusion  threat 
ened  to  prevail.  The  genius  of  Washington  moved 
over  the  troubled  elements.  A  new  political  creation 
dawned. 

It  seemed  adapted  to  the  requirements  of  the  time. 
It  concided  with  the  changed  habitudes  of  thought ; 
with  the  improved  notions  of  right ;  with  the  new  politi 
cal  nature  of  man.  It  presented  a  theatre  of  influence 
extensive  and  attractive ;  uncursed  with  the  trammels 
of  custom  ;  untainted  with  the  breath  of  tyranny  ;  where 
faith  and  freedom  joined  their  altars,  and  mingled 
their  blessings ;  where  the  foundations  of  glorious  insti 
tutions  were  laid ;  where  a  hopeful  community  was 
planted,  to  expand  and  flourish  for  ages. 

Look  around,  for  it  is  here — it  is  ours,  upon  the 
seat  and  operation  of  its  energies.  Protected  by  wide 
seas  from  the  perplexing  interference  of  alien  and  un- 


ORATION.  141 

friendly  powers.  Covering  an  area  which  surpasses  in 
extent  the  territory  of  all  the  chief  nations  of  antiquity. 

Grooved  with  rivers  in  which  all  the  navies  of  the 
world  could  ride.  Girt  with  a  sea  coast  stretching  one 
fourth  of  the  circuit  of  the  globe.  Yielding  infinite 
facilities  for  exchange  and  intercourse.  Displaying  the 
beauty  of  every  scenery ;  the  fertility  of  every  soil ; 
minerals  of  every  mark  ;  the  flowers  of  the  East ;  the 
luxuries  of  the  line ;  valleys  lovely  as  Yemen  ;  shores 
prolific  as  the  Nile  ;  the  roses  of  Palestine ;  the  orchards 
of  Persia ;  the  cane  fields  of  Jamaica ;  the  vineyards  of 
the  Rhine  ;  the  gold  of  India  ;  the  iron  of  Britian ;  the 
marble  of  PentelicuS. 

With  such  extraordinary  advantages  from  nature  is 
our  country  blessed.  With  an  origin  not  confused  in 
the  gloom  of  fable,  nor  stained  by  criminal  success ;  but 
creditable,  fortunate,  and  manifest.  With  a  history  so 
brief,  yet  so  illustrious.  Still  in  the  period  of  national 
youth,  yet  performing  prodigies  in  skill  and  valor. 
And  now  at  a  time  of  unwonted  activity,  when  earth 
rings  with  the  ceaseless  noise  of  enterprise  and  toil — 
she  appears  like  the  leader  of  the  nations,  cheering  them 
with  her  voice  and  example,  as  they  marvel  at  her  march, 
and  crowd  upon  her  wake.  Joy  attends  her  at  every 
step  ;  obstacles  sink  before  her ;  success  crowns  her 
efforts.  She  counsels  with  the  wisdom  of  Minerva ;  she 
labors  with  the  hand  of  Hercules ;  she  fights  with  the 
sword  of  Mars. 

See  the  results  of  her  power,  in  the  cities  she  has 
reared  along  the  banks  of  waters,  and  on  the  plains ; 
embellished  with  every  charm  which  taste  desires,  or 
opulence  can  furnish ;  and  murmuring  with  the  ever 


142  MISCELLANIES. 

grateful  echo  of  employment  and  content.  And  in  the 
channeled  mountains,  the  artificial  tides,  the  iron  roads 
and  iron  steed  ;  the  harvest  whitening  on  the  site  of  the 
wilderness  ;  learning  sought  where  ignorance  had  spread 
its  pall ;  religion  kneeling  on  the  grave  of  idols. 

And  in  her  armies  of  citizen  soldiers,  instinct  with 
valor  as  with  the  love  of  country  and  feelings  of  honor ; 
intelligent  and  cultivated ;  the  source  of  prosperity  in 
peace,  and  their  career  in  battle  stranger  than  fiction. 
No  records,  no  fables  match  them  ;  resistless  as  the  sea  ; 
forward  from  field  to  field,  like  fate ;  wrenching  victory 
from  surpassing  force,  from  impregnable  walls.  And 
kind  as  fierce  ;  as  merciful  by  the  litter  of  the  wounded, 
as  terrible  in  the  ridges  of  battle  ;  lenient  in  the  midst 
of  rage;  sparing  in  the  hour  of  revenge.  And  this  day,  a 
year  ago,  in  the  fatal  vale  of  Angostura,  the  American 
volunteer,  amidst  the  crashing  of  bones,  and  the  red 
gush  of  blood,  expressed  an  energy  and  a  soul,  which 
have  crowned  the  name  with  everlasting  laurel. 

These  are  the  legitimate  consequences  of  national 
institutions  and  habits — of  those  fundamental  principles, 
which  recognize  the  existence  of  absolute  rights,  and 
individual  independence.  Unspeakably  happy  may  we 
be,  that  our  lot  has  been  cast  in  a  country  so  highly 
favored  as  our  own.  Possessing,  as  it  does,  all  the  materi 
als  of  power  in  union ;  the  security  of  freedom  in  universal 
interest  and  responsibility  ;  in  the  prevalence  of  Christian 
morals,  and  the  spread  of  letters.  While  the  certainty 
of  reward  and  the  confidence  of  protection,  insure  the 
display  of  effort,  the  progress  of  art,  the  perfection  of 
means,  and  the  accumulation  of  wealth. 


ORATION.  143 

It  is  the  land  of  Washington,  immeasurably  blessed 
and  famous  by  his  birth  and  deeds.  A  land  of  great 
works  and  changes — of  free  discussion — of  healthful 
excitement — of  active  curiosity — of  remarkable  results. 
A  land  of  steam,  of  lightning — of  commerce,  of  inven 
tion — of  liberality,  of  sympathy,  of  knowledge — of  re 
ligious  toleration,  of  missionary  zeal,  of  civil  equality, 
of  female  influence — of  the  bible,  of  the  press,  of  the 
schoolmaster.  A  land  of  public  opinion. 

But  not  such  opinion  as  in  other  places,  and  at  differ 
ent  periods,  affected  the  customs  and  conditions  of 
people.  Not  suoh  as  at  one  time,  regarded  Polytheism 
with  favor ;  physical  courage  as  the  highest  virtue  ;  and 
suicide  as  an  honorable  death.  Not  such  as  received, 
with  reverence  and  faith,  prophetic  declarations  from  the 
Pythian  tripod ;  or  conformed  the  course  of  enterprise 
to  the  conventional  omens  of  elements  and  brutes.  Not 
such  as  imputed  merit  to  the  magician's  wand,  or  read  in 
the  necromantic  mirror  of  the  future,  the  fortunes  of 
characters  and  countries.  Not  such  as  encouraged  the 
fierce  fanaticism  of  the  Koran  and  the  Crusades.  Not 
such  as  upheld  the  terrors  of  the  Inquisition,  or  the 
military  tyranny  of  the  feudal  system  ;  as  fostered  the 
delirious  spirit  of  chivalrous  adventure,  turning  life  into 
romance  with  the  gay  tournaments  of  Templars,  and  the 
amorous  roundelays  of  Troubadours.  Not  such  as 
tolerated  torture  amongst  the  punishments  of  criminal 
law ;  or  ordeals  by  fire  and  water  amongst  its  methods 
of  trial ;  or  applauded  the  reckless  blasphemy  of  the 
Cyclopedists,  or  maintained  the  orthodoxy  of  indul 
gences,  the  pretensions  of  rank,  or  the  divine  preroga- 
ative  of  Kings. 


MISCELLANIES. 

But  an  opinion,  formed  by  universal  reflection,  and 
criticism — the  aggregate  judgment  of  mankind — tlie 
public  conscience  of  the  world,  qualified  and  enlightened 
by  the  influence  of  Christian  revelation.  Comprehend 
ing  and  sustaining  the  appropriate  relation  of  things ; 
the  principles  of  rights  and  obligations ;  the  interests 
and  responsibilities  of  life.  Speaking  with  a  sponta 
neous  and  united  effort,  approving^  whatever  promotes  ; 
and  denouncing  whatever  opposes  human  happiness 

Our  country  thus  upheld  by  such  a  moral  force  ;  by 
constitutional  provisions  of  equal  operation  and  general 
advantage  ;  and  by  the  prompt  and  matchless  prowess 
of  her  children — we  can  prescribe  no  limits  to  her  pro 
gress  ;  and  patriotism,  may  dream  of  continual  dura 
tion,  and  universal  fame.  Of  the  time,  when  she  shall 
control  and  direct  the  course  and  destiny  of  civilized 
society.  When  her  commerce  shall  be  vaster  than  all 
which  Venice  had,  and  Albion  has,  combined.  When 
the  productions  of  her  handicraft  shall  be  more  reputed 
than  those  of  the  Sidonian  artists.  When  her  soldiers 
shall  accomplish  more  than  the  Roman  or  the  Gaul. 
When  her  orators  shall  leave  loftier  models  than  the 
Greek  or  Saxon.  When  her  bards  shall  sing  diviner 
melodies  than  his,  whose  muse  soared  above  the  Aonian 
Mount ;  or  his,  the  blind  Maeonides  of  seven  cities 
claimed. 

And  her  flag  shall  float  on  every  wave,  and  in  every 
wind,  representing  the  purest  government  and  happiest 
people ;  the  emblem  of  political  faith  and  redemption 
to  millions,  wrestling  in  the  darkness  and  debasement 
of  oppression.  And  her  voice  shall  ever  nerve  the 
timid ;  cheer  the  feeble ;  sever  the  bonds ;  break  the 


ORATION.  145 

yokes ;  fling  wide  the  prison  doors ;  open  the  blinded 
eyes ;  unseal  the  silent  lips,  till  the  world  rings  with 
paeans  to  her  praise.  And  there  shall  be  no  darkness 
in  her  future ;  no  failing  in  the  vigor  of  her  institu 
tions  ;  no  change  in  her  original  principles ;  no  bounds 
to  her  development  and  growth,  to  the  trophies  of  her 
toil  and  arms ;  no  halting  in  her  brilliant  course,  till 
her  rivers  cease  to  flow,  and  her  iron  hills  shall  fade ; 
and  freedom,  and  time,  and  she,  with  a  common  fate, 
expire  together. 

Such  anticipations  fill  us  with  thrilling  reflections ; 
stimulate  every  patriotic  propensity ;  expand  our  chari 
ties  ;  elevate  our  sentiments  ;  argue  against  our  frailty, 
and  flatter  our  pride.  But  prospects  so  gratifying  may 
be  delusive.  Decay,  with  her  ashy  fingers,  seems  to 
have  written  ruin  on  everything  of  human  skill.  Na 
tions,  like  those  who  compose  them,  appear  to  be  born 
with  the  doom  of  dissolution — to  flourish  for  awhile  and 
then  pass  away. 

Such  is  the  lesson  of  experience, 

"  And  the  moral  of  all  human  tales, 
'Tis  but  the  same  rehearsal  of  the  past ! 
First  freedom,  then  glory !  when  that  fails, 
Wealth,  vice,  corruption — barbarism  at  last. 
And  history,  with  all  her  volumes  vast, 
Hath  but  one  page." 

Desolation  and  mystery  reign  over  the  courts  and  py- 
lones  of  Luxor  and  Karnak,  and  the  mausolea  of  the 
Pharaohs.  The  satyr  and  the  bittern  possess  the  halls 
and  palaces,  in  which  the  Assyrian  nobles  had  their 
orgies,  and  Belus  his  smoking  altars.  The  lonely 
fisherman  dries  his  net  on  tho  rocks,  where  the  Tyrian 

13 


146  MISCELLANIES. 

merchants  heaped  up  purple  and  gold.  Degeneracy 
and  ruin  mark  the  city,  where  the  Athenian  gazed  with 
rapture  on  the  temple  of  his  tutelar  goddess,  decorated 
by  the  chisel  of  Phidias  and  the  pencil  of  Zeuxis  ;  or 
beheld  justice  issuing,  pure  as  heaven,  from  the  hill  of 
Mars ;  or  witnessed  Socrates  illustrating  the  virtuous 
philosophy  he  taught ;  or  heard  and  believed  the  elo 
quence  of  Pericles  proclaiming  the  state  immortal. 
Lazaroni  lead  the  pensive  stranger  over  hillocks  of 
crushed  columns  and  sculptured  fragments ;  seeking 
the  ways  along  which  Caesar's  legions  passed  with  spoil 
and  captives ;  or  the  temple  walls,  in  which  Tully  last 
harangued  the  Conscript  fathers.  Gone  is  the  dynasty 
of  the  Abassides  ;  and  the  glory  of  Bagdad,  whose  long 
caravans  daily  left  her  gates,  to  distribute  the  intel 
lectual  treasures  of  her  students,  and  the  costly  wares 
of  her  cunning  workmen. 

These  nations  had  not,  indeed,  the  instruction  which 
their  own,  and  succeeding  experiments,  have  yielded. 
They  had  not  our  facilities  of  travel  and  communica 
tion.  They  had  not  heard,  or  heeded  the  voice  which, 
by  the  seashore  and  the  wayside,  by  Genesareth,  and 
on  the  mountain,  preached  the  new  kingdom  of  love. 
But  their  systems  were  defective,  because  they  were 
human — and  ours  of  like  original,  may  share  their  fate. 
But  when,  or  how — by  choice  or  chance ;  by  foreign  or 
internal  force  or  fraud ;  by  sudden  or  continued  in 
jury  ;  by  luxury  or  by  ambition — no  Sibyl  leaves  can 
tell,  no  oracle"can  answer. 

She  may  fall  by  her  own  hand ;  a  sacrifice  upon  her 
own  altar ;  the  victim  of  her  own  shame ;  the  spoil  of 
her  own  passions.  She  may  fall  in  the  prime  of  vigor ; 


ORATION.  147 

amidst  the  wildest  convulsions,  amidst  the  tumult  of 
tumbling  thrones  and  senates,  and  the  conflict  and 
blood  of  extended  revolution.  Her  sun  may  go  down 
in  clouds  and  storm,  "casting  disastrous"  darkness  o'er 
the  nations — it  may  go  down  in  light,  splendid  to  the 
last,  its  beams  long  illuminating  the  firmament  it  leaves 
forever. 

But  by  restraining  the  license  of  party  spirit ;  by 
the  exercise  of  vigilant  care  over  the  elective  privilege ; 
by  the  untrammeled  administration  of  jurisprudence ; 
by  giving  unremitting  attention  to  mental  cultivation, 
and  unfailing  recompense  to  works  of  art  and  acts  of 
merit ;  by  inculcating  a  rational  reverence  for  the  day 
of  holy  rest ;  and  the  practice  and  precepts  of  Chris 
tian  worship,  this  nation  will  be  a  blessing  to  countless 
generations,  who  in  succession  will  fill  our  places. 

Then  let  her  cling  to  her  early  virtues  ;  let  her  em 
brace  only  that  which  will  exalt  her ;  let  her  extend 
her  dominion  only  to  enlighten ;  let  her  fight  only 
in  the  cause  of  truth  and  honor ;  let  her  achieve  deeds 
fit  to  be  stamped  in  stone  or  graved  in  gold;  let  her 
become  a  "  comforter  of  the  earth  ;"  and  eventful  cen 
turies  shall  pass,  and  great  cycles  revolve  while  she 
endures.  Incalculably  distant  will  be  the  period,  when 
she  must  yield  to  the  inevitable  order  of  creation ;  and 
pay  her  last  reluctant  tribute  to  the  universal  law  of 
change. 


ALEXANDRIA  AND  CAIRO. 

The  stranger  in  Alexandria  is  confused  at  first  by 
the  shouting  mob,  masked  women,  stalls  full  of  trifles, 
complexions  from  straw  to  ebony,  languid  eyes,  long 
beards,  bald  heads,  red  caps,  loose  blouses,  soldiers  in 
white  flowing  trousers ;  carriages,  with  servants  on 
foot ;  Moslem  Hadjis,  half  clad,  and  half  starved. 

Palm  trees  are  in  the  suburbs  and  villages,  with  low, 
flat  roofs.  Heifers  turn  huge  water  wheels  to  irrigate 
the  Pasha's  garden.  Markets  are  in  the  open  air,  sup 
plied  with  bread  made  of  dates,  sugar  cane  in  stalks, 
beans  and  pigeons,  wheat  at  forty  cents  a  bushel,  and 
hideous  black  slaves.  The  streets  are  baked  hard  as 
tiles.  The  sun  glows  like  a  furnace.  The  slender 
minarets  rise  here  and  there.  The  crescent  floats  over 
the  city. 

The  ancient  ruins,  are  chiefly  beneath  the  sand. 
The  catacombs  in  the  subterranean  rocks  are  difficult  of 
access,  and  swarm  with  bats.  There  is  scarcely  any 
conspicuous  remains  of  the  great  city,  which  was  a 
second  Tyre  for  commerce  ;  rivaled  Athens  in  learning, 
and  Rome  in  wealth.  An  unfluted  column,  with  a 
Corinthan  capital,  known  as  Pompey's  pillar,  stands 
upright  near  the  sea.  .  A  prostrate  obelisk,  and  some 
parts  of  baths,  are  only  left  of  the  palaces  of  Cleopatra ; 
that  voluptuous  queen,  who  charmed  the  prudent  heart 

(148) 


ALEXANDRIA   AND   CAIRO.  149 

of  Caesar — seduced  Anthony  from  war  and  power,  to 
love  and  ruin — who  fascinated,  like  a  sorceress — 

"  Whom  age  could  not  wither, 
Nor  custom  stale  her  infinite 
Variety." 

Carlo,  the  old  city  of  the  Caliphs,  has  a  more  ori 
ental  character.  It  contains  many  mosques,  to  whose 
number,  each  succeeding  Pasha  adds  another.  All  have 
fountains  for  ablution ;  and  some  are  of  costly  marble, 
and  alabaster,  but  of  shabby  workmanship.  Some  are 
crumbling  down,  but  their  decay,  sacred  as  the  errors 
they  enshrine,  cannot  be  disturbed. 

The  Palace  has  furniture  of  silk  and  porcelain,  stone 
baths,  fountains  and  slaves.  The  citadel  overlooks  the 
town,  and  is  famous  for  the  massacre,  and  the  giddy 
leap,  of  the  last  of  the  Mamelukes.  The  well,  called 
Joseph's  is  sunk  a  prodigious  depth,  with  an  inclined 
pathway  to  the  bottom.  The  Bazaars  are  filled  with 
amber  tubes,  cherry  pipe  stems,  and  red  Fez  caps. 
The  quarters  of  the  city  are  divided  by  gates,  and  de 
voted  to  separate  trades.  The  pleasant  gardens  are 
odorous  with  the  fumes  of  aromatic  coffee  and  tobacco. 
A  few  rough  carts  wabble  along  the  streets,  on  wheels 
which  have  no  tires.  Infant  jugglers,  gymnastic  mon 
keys,  and  snake  charmers  exhibit  at  the  corners. 
Ovens  are  contrived  to  supersede  hens  in  hatching 
chickens.  An  agate  forest  covers  the  neighboring 
sands  with  petrified  trunks  and  branches,  heavy  as 
iron. 

Howling  Dervishes,  a  moslem  sect,  worship  by  vibra 
ting  their  heads,  like  pendulums,  and  grunting  in  con- 


150  MISCELLANIES. 

cert,  like  an  orchestra  of  brutes.  The  law  compels 
every  person  abroad  at  night  to  carry  a  lantern.  A 
towel  is  hung  over  the  doors  of  public  baths,  during  the 
hours  they  are  occupied  by  women.  A  Mecca  guide, 
with  long  hair  and  beard,  in  red  trowsers,  and  naked  to 
the  waist — sometimes  passes  along,  amidst  the  respect 
ful  salutations  of  the  crowd.  Abbas  Pasha,  with  his 
eyes  almost  closed  by  fat,  and  his  other  features  not 
indicative  of  genius,  occasionally  drives  by  in  a  phae 
ton  ;  preceded  by  riders,  who  clear  the  street  with 
lashes.  The  Copts  show,  for  a  consideration,  their 
Coptic  bible,  and  poverty  stricken  church ;  built,  as 
they  say,  over  the  tomb  of  Abraham.  The  Latin 
monks  have  a  convent  in  which  they  treat  strangers 
with  genuine  hospitality. 

But  this  is  still  fanatic  Egypt ;  where  superstition 
has  her  seat,  and  magic  and  false  prophets  have  long 
had  dominion  over  human  faith.  Some  little  evidence, 
however,  appears  of  improving  times.  Trifles,  like 
straws,  show  the  course  of  currents.  Some  European 
clothes ;  some  Christian  women's  faces ;  some  sign 
boards,  in  Roman  letters  ;  some  foreign  hotels,  and 
foreign  bankers,  and  the  increase  of  travel,  foreshadow 
the  encroachment  of  a  better  policy,  and  a  wiser  creed. 


THE  NILE. 

Behold  the  Nile  !  the  joy  of  the  Arab !  the  mother 
of  Egypt !  annually  overflowing !  a  thousand  miles 
without  a  tributary  stream !  Swelling  proudly  along 
its  fertile  sides,  as  if  conscious  of  its  prolific  virtue  and 
old  renown  !  Coming  from  that  much  sought,  and  long 
undiscovered  country — the  abode,  perhaps,  of  some  pa 
triarchal  tribe ;  or  some  savage  horde ;  some  virgin 
wilderness  ;  or  some  fairy  land ;  which  poets  have  long 
dreamed  of,  and  travelers  toiled,  and  Caesar  sighed  for, 
in  the  very  arms  of  victory  and  love  ! 

It  was  once  said  to  flow  from  heaven.  It  was  deemed 
divine  and  worshiped.  A  beautiful  maid  was  every 
year  its  sacrificial  feast.  On  its  delightful  banks,  great 
Jove  himself  was  wont  to  spend  some  summer  days. 

From  its  famous  valley,  doubtless  sprang  those  once 
popular  mythologies ;  those 

«  Gay  religions  full  of  pomp  and  gold." 

Those  schemes  of  human  worship,  which  warmed  the 
fancy  of  the  classic  bards.  They  had  some  little  truth 
debased  with  infinite  errors.  Deities  subordinate,  and 
supreme,  imbued  with  human  frailties ;  divinities  of 
war,  and  love,  and  wine ;  the  soul  immortal,  but  itine 
rant  amongst  brutes  and  birds  ;  or  borne  over  Charon's 
ferry  to  the  realms  of  Pluto ;  ceremonies  of  prayer 

(151) 


152  MISCELLANIES. 

and  propitiation,  but  to  idols  foul ;  altars  such  as 
stirred  the  spirit  of  Paul  in  Athens,  inscribed  in 
ignorance  to  the  unknown  God. 

It  was  here,  also,  science  must  have  had  its  cradle. 
Here  nations  learned  their  alphabets  and  numerals. 
Hence  armies,  colonies  and  scholars  went  forth  to  sub 
due,  and  educate,  and  distribute  civilization  through 
the  world.  Here  were  schooled  the  gifted  of  the 
Greeks.  Here  Solon  studied  the  principles  of  legisla 
tion  ;  Plato,  the  systems  of  philosophy ;  Pythagoras, 
the  true  theory  of  the  planetary  revolutions ;  Thales, 
how  to  calculate  eclipses ;  Eratosthenes,  how  to  mea 
sure  the  circumference  of  the  globe  ;  the  Father  of  his 
tory,  the  art  of  composing  annals  ;  the  Prince  of  poets, 
the  glorious  measure  of  the  epic  muse. 

A  cruel  barbarian  destroyed  the  last  written  vestiges 
of  that  learning,  in  which  the  Jewish  lawgiver  was  im 
bued  ;  and  which  must  have  charmed,  perhaps,  cor 
rupted  the  uxorious  soul  of  Solomon.  Those  countless 
scrolls  of  papyrus,  which  heated  for  months  the  Moslem 
baths,  may  have  been  inscribed  with  learning,  with 
songs,  and  eloquence,  worthy  of  the  mighty  monarchy 
of  Rhamses. 

But  elements  and  barbarism  have  assailed,  but  not 
destroyed  the  pyramids.  Grand  as  nature,  their  forms 
eternal  as  their  rocks ;  they  seem  more  like  mountains 
than  ma  sonry.  Nor  were  they  built  in  vain.  Though 
their  founders'  names  are  lost,  and  the  carcasses  they 
covered,  scattered ;  they  are  yet  conspicuous  evidence 
of  accumulated  wealth ;  of  regulated  labor ;  of  culti 
vated  genius.  They  are  memorials  of  established  go 
vernment,  and  civil  law.  They  are  monuments  of 


THE   NILE.  153 

society,  and  civilization,  the  oldest  in  the  world. 

They  were  there,  before  that  wise  Judean  king  took 
thence  that  royal  bride,  in  whose  honor,  they  say,  he 
built  a  city.  Before  Pharaoh's  gentle  daughter,  bath 
ing  in  those  waters,  found  the  infant  Moses  in  his 
cradle  ark.  The  chosen  children  must  have  beheld 
them,  when  they  served  in  those  neighboring  fields. 
Joseph  must  have  passed  them,  when,  arrayed  in  fine 
linen  vestures  and  the  chain  of  gold,  he  rode  in  the 
second  chariot  of  the  land.  Abraham  must  have  looked 
upon  them,  when  sojourning  there  with  Sarah,  whose 
beauty  charmed  the  nobles  and  the  monarch.  Men 
may  have  seen  them,  who  walked  the  earth  with  Noah. 
Their  builders  may  have  heard  the  subsiding  waters  of 
the  deluge ;  and  raised  them,  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
future  ruin. 

For  forty  centuries  they  have  stood.  Millions  have 
passed  beneath  their  shadows: — strangers  and  slaves ; 
kings  and  crowds ;  in  infinite  procession.  Empires 
have  followed  one  another  in  these  plains,  like  scenes 
upon  a  stage.  Fair  cities  have  risen  on  those  banks, 
and  disappeared,  and  scarcely  left  a  wreck  of  their 
foundations.  A  single  prostrate  statue,  nearly  shroud 
ed  in  the  sand,  is  all  that  remains  of  the  once  polished 
Memphis.  A  lone  obelisk  stands,  like  a  grave-stone, 
over  the  site  of  ancient  On. 

Those  mute  piles  have  witnessed  all  their  hopes  and 
fates — their  splendor  and  their  desolation.  They  may 
still  long  endure ;  and  survive  other  scenes  and  unde 
veloped  changes,  until  earth's  final  hour.  And  as  they 
are  the  earliest,  they  may  be  the  last  remains  of  man. 


154  MISCELLANIES. 

The  largest  occupies  thirteen  acres  of  ground ;  con 
tains  several  small  chambers  ;  an  empty  sarcophagus  ; 
and  has  an  opening  of  26°  to  the  horizon,  which 
pointed  at  the  time  of  its  construction,  to  the  polar 
star.  Its  sides  are  crumbling,  but  it  is  sustained  by 
granite  corner  stones,  thirty  and  forty  feet  long,  and 
two  or  three  feet  high.  Up  these  tall  steps  you  are 
rapidly  elevated  by  importunate  guides,  four  hundred 
and  fifty  feet,  to  the  apex.  There,  on  a  platform  of 
thirty  feet  square,  you  may  dine ;  carve  your  name  in 
the  soft  stone ;  gaze  over  the  dreary  sand,  or  down  the 
ragged  sides  upon  the  marred  and  broken  spinx,  whose 
colossal  paws,  fifty  feet  in  length,  inclose  a  buried  tem 
ple;  or  you  may  watch  the  Arabs  as  they  perform, 
without  lifting  their  feet,  a  native  dance,  on  the  top  of 
this  sepulchre  of  a  king  or  god. 

Musing  on  these  old  wonders  ;  in  a  barge  far  different 
from  hers,  whose  silken  sails  and  gilded  masts  floated 
down  the  Cydnus  ;  drinking  a  beverage,  Horace  wanted, 
when  he  journeyed  to  Brundusium  ;  feeding  on  fishes 
without  scales,  which  Lucullus  would  have  loved ;  you 
wind  up  the  river  for  many  days.  The  skies  are  seldom 
clouded ;  delicious  mingling  of  blue  and  purple  skirts 
the  horizon  as  the  sun  goes  down.  The  night  comes  on 
at  once,  with  scarcely  any  twilight,  and  the  stars  con 
vert  the  canopy  into  a  dome  of  diamonds. 

A  double  range  of  sandy  mountains  run  parallel  on 
the  opposite  shores,  inclosing  this  pleasant  region,  which 
for  beauty  and  fertility,  seems  the  very  paragon  of 
countries.  There  are  sections  of  sugar  cane,  divided  by 


THE   NILE.  155 

gutters  ;  tracts  of  cotton,  like  fields  of  fleece ;  acres  of 
mustard,  and  winds  light  and  warm  blow 

"Sabean  odours  from  the  spicy  shores 
Of  Araby  the  blest." 

The  sight  delighted,  wanders  over  a  strangely  con 
trasted  landscape — meadows  in  every  stage  of  cultiva 
tion  ;  the  glebe  fresh  turned  ;  the  grain  fresh  sprouted  ; 
the  blossom's  bloom  ;  the  fruit  matured.  The  plowman 
and  the  sower  ;  the  reaper  and  he  that  gathereth  up  the 
sheaves,  go  side  by  side.  Seed  time  and  harvest  are  in 
one  day,  and  in  one  plain, 

"  Spring  and  autumn  dancing  hand  in  hand." 

There  are  rocky  cliffs  in  some  places  near  the  water, 
abrupt  and  high,  from  whose  top  the  eagle  screams  ;  in 
whose  sides  the  wild  fowls  build.  There  are  cranes, 
ranked  like  an  army  on  the  beach,  as  numerous  as  those 
that  warred  upon  the  pigmies.  There  are  crowds  of 
pelicans,  white  as  wool,  and  grave  as  juries ;  flocks  of 
geese  gliding  on  the  river,  wheeling  through  the  air,  or 
waddling  on  the  ground,  shy  as  maids.  A  pair  of 
crocodiles  lie  sleeping  on  the  shore,  with  their  guardian 
birds  to  warn  them  of  danger,  and  pick  their  teeth  for 

Pay- 
Droves  of  buffaloes,  with  ram-like  horns,  are  tethered 
in  the  grass,  or  playing  with  all  their  might,  as  they 
gallop  to  the  bank  for  drink.  There  are  large  cows 
from  Nubia,  with  humps  like  saddles,  on  their  shoulders  ; 
herds  of  sheep,  with  naked  children  for  their  shepherds  ; 
strings  of  camels  laden  with  wares  for  the  interior  ; 
or  spices  for  the  cities  ;  groves  of  date  trees,  with  leaves 
like  ostrich  feathers  ;  the  grateful  shade  of  gum  arftbic ; 


156  MISCELLANIES. 

the  desert,  wide  and  waste  over  which  the  sandy  whirl 
winds  dance. 

There  are  villages  of  sun-dried  bricks,  from  whose 
minarets,  the  priests  call  to  prayers ;  women  in  blue 
slips,  washing  or  carrying  water  on  their  heads  in 
earthen  jars ;  men  irrigating  the  soil,  nude  as  nature, 
of  whom  it  may  be  said  :  "  they  owe  the  worm  no  silk, 
the  beast  no  hide,  the  sheep  no  wool,  the  cat  no  per 
fume."  There  are  numerous  boats  with  sails  like  swal 
low's  wings,  freighted  with  corn  or  cotton,  or  slaves  from 
the  line;  rafts  of  pottery  joined  by  green  palm  ropes, 
floating  down  to  market. 

There  are  the  pylones  and  courts  of  Thebes : 

"  The  world's  great  mistress  on  the  Egyptian  plains." 

The  ruins  of  palaces  and  temples,  sculptured  and 
painted  with  history  and  fable,  are  vast  as  cities ;  as  if 
their  founders  had  been  giants  ;  or  as  Champollion  says, 
one  hundred  feet  in  height ;  or  as  the  Arabs  speak,  tall 
as  the  palm  trees  ;  as  if  their  lives  had  been  measured 
by  centuries ;  and  like  the  Titans,  they  were  able  to 
cope  with  the  Gods  themselves. 

Though  these  remains  are  disfigured,  and  occupied  by 
entire  mud  villages  ;  by  the  accumulated  rubbish  of  ages  ; 
by  myriads  of  pigeons';  poisonous  reptiles;  and  burrow 
ing  foxes,  yet  no  one  can  regard  their  huge  dimensions, 
unsubdued.  Walls  stand,  on  whose  top  carriages  could 
pass.  Obelisks  of  a  single  stone,  slender  and  pointed, 
rise  eighty  feet  upright.  Lofty  columns  are  counted  by 
hundreds.  Statues  are  seen  nearly  a  thousand  tons 
weight,  and  twenty  feet  across  the  shoulders.  Memnon, 
fabled  to  have  saluted  the  rising  sun  with  music,  and 


THE   NILE.  157 

which  still  echoes  like  metal  to  a  blow  ;  is  fifty  feet  above 
the  sand,  though  seated.  It  is  only  one  of  a  double 
colonnade  which  once  formed  an  avenue  two  miles  in 
length. 

Compared  to  such  relics,  all  other  antiquites  and 
structures  dwindle  into  toys.  What  magnificent  scenes 
they  once  witnessed  !  when  the  inclosures  were  perfect ; 
the  courts  paved  ;  shining  with  pleasant  furniture ;  the 
pillars  all  upright ;  the  decorations  fresh  ;  the  avenues 
crowded  ;  the  altars  fuming  with  sacrifice  ! 

But  time  and  enemies  have  spent  their  rage  upon  this 
famous  city, 

"She  who  stretched  her  conquest  o'er  a  thousand  States;" 

Whose  rulers  were  the  chief  of  warriors  ;  whose  priests 
were  the  sages  of  the  world  ;  whose  people  were  the  first 
of  nations ;  the  city  of  poetry  and  prophecy ;  of  Ho 
mer's  verse  and  Ezekiel's  vision,  has  been  rent  asunder  ; 
as  it  was  written ;  and  her  multitudes,  cut  off,  fill  the 
mountains  with  their  mummies  and  their  tombs. 


14 


THE   DESERT. 

Our  caravan  was  composed  of  several  camels,  and 
each  one's  nose  was  tied  to  the  tail  of  the  one  it  followed. 
Some  were  loaded  with  canvas,  water,  cooking  pans, 
and  poultry.  My  dragoman,  who  was  a  Copt  in  religion, 
a  mulatto  in  complexion,  and  a  very  promiscuous  rascal, 
had  the  use  of  another.  I  rode  on  one,  in  a  sort  of 
palanquin,  furnished  with  pipes,  lunch,  and  water  in 
leathern  bottles.  The  drivers,  a  sheik  in  green  turban, 
and  his  man,  generally  walked,  often  in  their  barefeet, 
and  when  the  ground  was  too  hot,  they  wore  sandals. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  April  when  we  left  the  Nile — 
those  pleasant  shores  where  the  summer  never  fails,  and 
the  rain  never  falls.  We  passed  the  plains  of  Goshen, 
once  the  seat  of  Joseph's  kindred,  blooming  with  fruits 
and  grain.  We  reached  a  small  village  in  the  evening, 
and  to  avoid  thieves,  encamped  in  a  cow-yard,  amongst 
fleas  and  other  carniverous  insects.  This  reminded  us 
of  the  proverb  of  Scylla  and  Charybdis. 

We  were,  however,  early  on  the  way,  moving  directly 
towards  the  sun,  as  his  beams  reddening,  and  spreading 
up  the  horizon,  burst  forth  in  floods  of  fire.  Slowly  and 
steadily  we  traveled  onward,  without  pause,  or  turning, 
dining  as  we  rode ;  over  the  hard,  over  the  yielding  sur 
face,  until  the  night.  The  baggage  was  unloaded,  the 
charcoal  kindled,  the  tent  pitched,  and  I  supped  alone 

(158) 


THE   DESERT.  159 

as  usual  on  coffee,  and  chickens,  partly  boiled,  by  the 
partly  civilized  cook.  The  meal  was  more  symbolical 
than  palatable. 

The  camels  were  fed  on  beans,  the  men  had  their  re 
past,  and  all  lay  down  "and  slept  outside  of  the  canvas. 
I  strolled  some  rods  away.  The  air  was  calm,  but  cool. 
The  moon  in  her  silver  mask  was  climbing  the  azure 
dome.  The  eastern  stars  followed  in  glittering  pro 
cession.  Their  mellow  light  shed  a  pleasant  influence 
over  the  vast  and  solitary  wild. 

All  sublunary  nature  seemed  at  rest.  No  rustle  of 
reeds,  no  buz  of  wings,  no  fall  of  footsteps,  no  purl  of 
stream  informed  the  listening  sense.  I  could  perceive 
neither  form  of  living  creature,  nor  noise  of  living 
breath,  except  my  own.  But  there  was,  withal,  an  ex 
terior  sound ;  indistinct  and  unaccountable,  subdued, 
yet  unsuppressed.  It  was  continuous ;  like  the  roaring 
of  a  shell,  or  the  rushing  of  a  wind,  or  the  distant  voice 
of  the  sea,  or  the  confused  murmurs  of  a  city.  But  it 
could  have  arisen  from  no  such  sources.  Could  it  be  an 
imaginary  impression  ?  Could  silence  thus  produce 
an  illusion  on  the  ear,  as  darkness  sometimes  does  upon 
the  eye  ?  Or  was  it  the  aggregate  respiration  of  unseen 
life — the  whirring  movement  of  sleepless  spirits — the 
secret  pulses  of  the  world — the  mysterious  harmonies  of 
the  universe.  Philosophers  may  seek  its  cause.  Arabs 
are  satisfied  with  calling  it,  the  silence  of  the  desert. 

The  next  day  or  two,  our  course  lay  over  an  undula 
ting  tract  of  hill  and  vale.  We  suffered  from  the  uneasy 
motion  of  the  camel,  which  does  not  make  one  sick  but 
sore,  and  which  none  but  a  Bedouin  can  long  endure. 
The  fierce  sun  burned  relentlessly  above  us.  Neither 


160  MISCELLANIES. 

rock,  nor  tree,  nor  cloud  interposed  a  grateful  shadow. 
The  sky  was  brass,  the  earth  iron.  The  Sirocco  blew 
its  tropical  breath  hot  as  flames. 

By  some  extravagance,  our  food  was  diminished,  and 
the  supply  of  water  exhausted.  The  mirage  shone  like 
a  lake  before  us,  and  fled  our  approach,  as  water 
once  the  lips  of  Tantalus.  We  then  remembered  well,  as 
whilom  did  wandering  Israel,  the  flesh  pots,  the  fishes 
and  the  sweet  river  of  Egypt.  Some  days,  the  fine  sand 
drove  against  us  in  furious  waves,  stifling,  blinding  and 
scorching  as  they  passed.  Our  poor  beasts  of  burthen, 
wearied  or  alarmed,  turned  at  last  abruptly  around, 
and  refused  to  proceed. 

We  dismounted ;  the  tent  raised,  was  once  blown 
over,  and  with  difficulty  secured  against  the  gale. 

Lying  down  within  its  oven-like  shelter,  I  was  soon 
enveloped  in  a  drift  of  dust,  which  had  penetrated 
through  the  pores  of  the  canvas.  We  resumed  the 
journey  after  nightfall.  There  soon  appeared  ap 
proaching  toward  us,  in  the  dim  moonlight,  a  long 
string  of  camels  with  riders,  and  drivers,  filing  over 
the  irregular  ground.  Silently  and  swiftly  they  came ; 
nearer  and  nearer;  until  we  were  about  to  salute  them, 
when — they  vanished  like  a  phantom !  and  we  never 
saw  them  more. 

The  next  day,  we  arrived  at  one  of  those  cisterns, 
dug,  in  certain  places,  for  the  benefit  of  wanderers,  and 
which  collect  and  retain  the  rains  of  the  spring.  A 
large  stone  hand  was  on  it ;  and  near  it,  were  the  prints 
of  a  horse's  hoof,  made  very  wide  apart  by  the  Arabs, 
to  commemorate  the  strength  and  speed  of  a  famous 
freebooter.  He  was  one  of  the  heroes  of  their  stories  ; 


THE   DESERT.  161 

and  born  black,  though  of  white  parents,  in  answer  to 
his  mother's  prayer. 

The  water  was  thick  with  slime  ;  green  and  foetid. 
The  men  descended ;  stood  in  it  knee  deep,  and  filled 
the  large  goat  skins  and  the  bottles.  Parched  and 
thirsty,  we  drank  it  with  avidity. 

With  no  other  beverage  than  this,  we  went  on,  for 
several  days,  over  the  empty  basins  of  lakes,  shining 
with  incrusted  salt.  Cool,  moist  sea  breezes  soon  re 
freshed  us ;  and  we  saw  at  hand  the  blue  tents  of 
other  travelers.  A  Russian  Prince,  with  a  large  reti 
nue,  was  bound  to  the  same  destination ;  he  furnished 
us  with  fresh  water ;  and  we  pursued  the  rest  of  our 
route  together.  Some  hawks,  some  daisies,  the  foot 
prints  of  jackals,  and  a  hyena,  and  the  bed  of  a  water 
less  river,  varied  the  monotony  of  the  way,  as  we 
reached  a  village  ;  the  second  we  had  seen  since  leaving 
Cairo. 

Having  paid  the  usual  sum  for  a  watch  during  the 
night ;  we  left  at  dawn,  and  were  soon  followed  by  the 
Sheik.  He  demanded  extra  pay,  because  we  were  in 
two  parties.  We  refused  to  recognize  this  ingenious 
apportionment.  The  excited  sheik  shook  his  shawl, 
pulled  off  his  sandals,  and  left  us  with  threats  of  ven 
geance.  In  an  hour,  he  returned,  with  all  the  males  of 
the  village,  armed  with  guns,  clubs  and  knives.  They 
shouted  "baksheesh" — moved  towards  us — we  faced 
them — a  shock  seemed  certain.  But  they  halted. 
For  although  twice  as  numerous,  they  observed  that 
some  of  the  Russians  were  well  armed.  They  then 
posted  themselves  in  front  of  us ;  with  all  manner  of 


162  MISCELLANIES. 

gestures  and  menaces;  but  as  we  advanced,  they  one 
by  one,  stood  aside.  They  next  hung  on  our  rear,  and 
on  our  flank;  and  for  several  miles,  followed  us  with 
noise,  and  the  clatter  of  their  weapons.  But  baffled 
and  defied,  they  at  last  retired.  They  doubtless  as 
sailed  us  with  much  vernacular  impudence,  which  as 
we  did  not  understand,  we  did  not  resent. 

We  passed  directly  on,  here  and  there,  by  some 
prickly  grass,  which  the  camels  cropped  in  march 
ing — some  modest  flowers  wasting  their  virtues — 
some  dreary  vales  with  drifts  like  snow.  After  nearly 
a  fortnight's  dismal  travel,  we  came,  at  once,  on  a 
plain  of  boundless  green;  dotted  with  numerous  tents, 
black  and  comely  as  the  tents  of  Kedar.  Droves  of 
camel  calves  cried  after  us  like  children.  Busy 
reapers  were  bending  to  the  grain.  Cool  breezes  fan 
ned  us  from  the  ocean.  Deep  wells  bubbled  with  fresh 
water.  It  was  the  season  of  flowers ;  it  was  the  valley 
of  Sharon  ;  the  voice  of  the  turtle ;  the  carol  of  the 
lark  ;  and  myriads  of  singing  birds  made  the  welkin 
echo  with  the  sweetest  sounds  in  nature.  The  day 
seemed  like  an  hour ;  the  road  like  a  garden  path. 
Old  olives  were  white  with  vernal  bloom.  Crimson 
blossoms  shone  like  leaves  of  fire  amongst  the  branches 
of  pomegranate  trees.  There  were  pinks  like  stars 
upon  the  ground;  roses  worthy  of  the  Psalmist's  songs; 
lilies  such  as  the  delighted  eye  of  Christ  remembered, 
when  he  uttered  the  parable  of  providence. 

A  transition  so  unforseen  gave  us  a  delicious  impres 
sion  of  this,  the  Holy  Land.  Other  countries  have 
their  attractions.  You  may  trace  the  course  of  science 


THE   DESERT.  163 

along  the  descending  Nile — the  flight  of  victory  as  it 
followed  the  Roman  eagles — climb  the  heights  of 
Greece  where  they  invoked  the  muses.  But  the  soul 
turns  with  an  immortal  interest  to  Palestine,  where  the 
incarnate  Deity  walked  with  the  children  of  men. 


THE  BEDOUIN  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

The  Bedouin  is  proud  of  his  Chaldean  father  and 
Egyptian  mother;  and  though  half  Gentile  and  half 
Jew,  he  has  no  sympathy  with  either.  He  seems  to 
rejoice  in  verifying  the  predicted  misanthropy  of  the 
seed  of  Ishmael.  His  hand  is  against  every  man. 

He  is  regarded  as  an  infidel.  Indifferent  both  to 
Jerusalem  and  to  Meccca — he  makes  no  pilgrimages. 
Without  altars,  or  temples,  or  fountains — he  makes 
neither  ablutions  nor  prostrations.  He  loves  the  mov 
ing  stars  above  him,  and  the  moving  sands  beneath  him. 
He  builds  no  cities  ;  and  holds  in  contempt  the  luxury 
of  palaces,  the  works  of  art,  and  the  drudgery  of 
labor.  He  has  no  schools,  is  unable  to  read  ;  yet  fond 
of  poetic  recitations. 

He  is  governed  by  hereditary  sheiks.  He  dwells  un 
der  tents  of  camel's  hair,  spread  like  an  awning.  He 
is  satisfied  with  dates,  cheese  and  honey.  He  moves 
his  abode  when  the  pastures  fail.  He  always  goes 
armed,  and  mostly  with  a  lance.  He  wears  only  a 
loose  blouse  around  his  body,  and  a  small  shawl  over 
his  head,  with  which  he  often  conceals  his  face.  His 
figure  is  slight,  but  sinewy ;  his  complexion  nearly 
black  ;  his  features  regular,  but  felonious. 

He  has  credit  for  virtues  which  he  rarely  exhibits. 
He  is  not  too  proud  to  beg,  but  mean  enough  to  steal. 

(164) 


THE    BEDOUIN    AND   HIS    FRIENDS.  165 

His  hospitality  refuses  the  traveler  water  without  pay. 
His  courage  prefers  rather  to  waylay  than  to  fight.  He 
revels  in  the  vast  expanse  of  the  desert.  It  suits  the 
wildness  of  his  spirit,  and  the  sterility  of  his  mind. 
It  affords  him  an  opportunity  for  plunder,  and  a  refuge 
from  justice.  But  he  is  generally  true  to  his  contract, 
and  Seldom  hetrays  a  trust.  He  avenges  with  blood 
shed,  the  death  of  his  kindred.  The  friend  whom  he 
admits  to  his  board,  may  rely  on  his  shelter  and  his 
spear.  His  wealth  is  not  rated  in  acres,  but  in  stock. 

The  camel  is  essential  to  him.  It  suits  his  life,  by 
its  unique  conformation  and  habits.  It  is  ugly,  and  ill 
shaped,  with  a  long  neck  and  a  short  tail ;  but  its  face 
is  expressive  of  humility  and  patience.  Its  great  height 
affords  free  play  to  its  limbs,  and  a  commanding  view 
to  the  rider.  Its  arched  back  increases  its  strength, 
and  capacity  to  carry.  It  kneels  to  be  loaded,  and 
refuses  to  rise  when  oppressed.  Lifting  two  legs  on 
one  side  at  the  same  time,  it  careens,  like  a  ship,  in  its 
motions.  Its  soft,  round  feet,  scarcely  sink  in  the 
sand.  Its  gate  is  regular  and  steady,  at  the  rate  of 
two  miles  an  hour.  It  is  often  as  swift  as  an  ostrich. 
It  is  scarcely  affected  by  heat,  and  goes  two  weeks 
without  water. 

It  is  dangerous  when  provoked  ;  revengeful  as  its  mas 
ter,  but  true  to  him.  It  carries  him  on  his  journeys  ; 
his  plunder,  when  he  robs  ;  his  merchandize,  when  he 
trades  ;  his  tent,  when  he  changes  his  abode  ;  his  arms, 
when  he  fights  ;  his  presents,  when  he  goes  a  wooing  ; 
his  bride,  when  he  has  wedded.  Its  body  makes  him  a 
shelter  from  the  storm,  and  a  shade  from  the  sun.  Its 
flesh  yields  him  food ;  its  hair  furnishes  his  garments. 


166  MISCELLANIES. 

The  Bedouin  prizes  his  camel,  but  he  loves  his  horse. 
That  noble  beast  shares  his  heart  with  his  women  and 
children.  He  is  educated  with  care.  He  is  inured  to 
fatigue,  hunger,  and  thirst.  He  is  taught  to  wheel, — 
to  halt  at  full  speed — to  evade  the  lance — to  stand  fire. 

His  pedigree  can  be  traced  back  for  generations. 
He  is  decked  with  tassels  and  amulets.  He  moves  with 
the  pride  of  heroic  blood.  He  disdains  all  burthens 
but  his  rider.  His  flowing  tail, — his  silken  mane, — his 
neck  superbly  arched, — his  lifted  feet,  seem  to  combine 
all  the  grace  and  glory  of  animal  life.  Such  a  creature 
must  have  inspired  the  graphic  pen  of  Job,  the  grati 
tude  of  Alexander,  the  fond  folly  of  Caligula. 

The  Bedouin  esteeming  his  horse  and  camel  as  faith 
ful  friends,  bears  the  indifference  of  a  savage  to  all 
others. 


JERUSALEM. 

The  interest  of  Palestine  culminates  at  Jerusalem. 
There,  stood  the  ancient  Salem,  from  which  Melchisideck 
went  forth  to  bless  the  Patriarch,  returning  victorious 
from  the  battle,  with  Lot,  his  goods  and  women.  There, 
God  spared  the  son  of  Abraham,  and  there,  He  sacri 
ficed  his  own.  There,  the  abominations  of  Canaan,  the 
brutish  worship,  the  fire  of  Moloch  provoked  the  aveng 
ing  sword  of  Israel.  There,  celestial  fire  consumed  the 
offering  of  David  on  the  threshing  floor  of  Oman.  The 
destroying  angel  stayed  there  his  arm.  Thither,  they 
brought  the  holy  ark  with  music.  There,  the  glorious 
temple  rose. 

The  present  city,  of  about  fifteen  thousand  inhabi 
tants,  is  situated  on  a  precipitous  declivity,  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  deep  ravines.  Its  battlemented  walls, 
tall  square  towers,  domes,  and  infinite  white  tombs  re 
lieve  the  monotony  of  a  vast,  desolate  region.  All 
around  seems  a  wilderness  of  rocks  ;  as  if  rain  had  swept 
away  the  soil,  or  fire  had  burned  up  the  roots  of  vege 
tation.  Except  a  few  olives,  and  patches  of  grass  and 
grain,  all  else  is  drear  and  sterile.  No  cedars  crown 
the  heights  with  forests.  No  arable  plains  appear,  nor 
blooming  gardens,  nor  fragrant  orchards. 

The  lovely  scenes,  the  delightful  fields,  the  sweet 
flowers  which  we  read  of  in  Eastern  tales — the  flowing 

(167) 


168  MISCELLANIES. 

pastures,  the  sparkling  fountains — the  land  of  corn  and 
grapes,  and  oil,  and  honey,  such  as  the  spies  reported, 
and  Moses  saw  from  Pisgah  ;  such  as  Tacitus,  Hecataeus 
and  the  Imperial  Apostate  praised,  are  there  no  more. 
The  clusters  of  Eschol  are  as  scarce  as  the  giants  of 
Anak.  Nothing  recalls  the  beauty  and  abundance  of 
the  heathen  authors,  and  the  sacred  bards.  There  is 
no  view  which  charms  the  sense,  no  cheerful  spot  on 
which  the  sight  delights  to  linger.  Nature  seems  to 
have  failed,  the  ground  looks  wan,  the  air  breathes 
decay. 

There  is  scarcely  left  any  evidence  of  former  wealth, 
prosperity,  or  power.  The  roads  which  Solomon's 
chariots  traversed,  have  disappeared.  The  aqueducts 
which  supplied  the  fountains,  are  here  and  there  dis 
covered  by  their  broken  arches.  But  you  may  see  the 
pool  of  Gihon,  now  dry,  built  of  huge  stones,  where  the 
beauty  of  Bathsheba  bathing,  provoked  the  guilt  of  the 
enamored  King.  The  ancient  well  of  Job,  (so  named,) 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  deep,  still  bubbles 
with  pure  water.  There  are  the  venerable  walls  of 
Siloa's  brook,  "which  flowed  fast  by  the  Oracle,"  and 
now  lines  the  banks  with  verdure.  The  tower  of  Hip- 
picus  still  stands,  huge  and  square,  as  it  was  built  by 
Herod. 

There  are  chambers,  with  Doric  columns,  large  as 
bed-rooms,  cut  in  the  limestone  hills,  with  sepulchres, 
such  as  held  the  bodies  of  kings  and  judges,  the  Virgin 
and  the  Saviour.  A  crumbling  arch  remains  of  the 
bridge  which  once  united  Mounts  Zion  and  Moriah. 
Great  beveled  stones,  the  only  reputed  relics  of  the 
temple,  attract  the  Jews  each  Friday  to  bewail  the 


JERUSALEM.  169 

possession  of  the  aliens.  Besides  these,  and  Bethesda's 
pool,  now  empty,  where  He  bade  the  cripple  walk  ; 
there  are,  perhaps,  no  other  undisputed  remains  of  the 
ancient  city. 

But  there  are  natural  localities  which  cannot  be  mis 
taken.  There  is  the  barren  field  of  blood,  bought  with 
the  silver  which  Judas  could  not  keep.  And  the  Mount 
of  Moriah,  the  site  of  the  temple,  covered  now  by  the 
Mosque  of  Omar,  with  its  wells,  its  domes,  and  tombs, 
and  lamps  of  ostrich  eggs.  There  is  the  valley  of  Ked- 
ron,  dry  until  swollen  by  the  winter  rains.  Above  its 
banks  is  Gethsemane,  inclosing  eight  old  olives,  which 
may  have  witnessed  that  bloody  agony  and  prayer,  when 
He  asked  that  the  hour  and  the  cup  might  pass. 

Mount  Zion,  partly  ploughed  as  a  field,  is  the 
resort  of  lepers,  and  full  of  graves.  There  are  the 
sloping  sides  of  Olivet ;  hallowed,  by  the  grief  of 
David,  when  with  covered  head  and  naked  feet,  he  and 
his  people  went  up,  weeping  from  the  parricidal  arm  of 
Absalom ;  and  of  Jesus,  when  amidst  palms  and  ho- 
sannahs,  he  sadly  gazed  upon  the  city,  which  stoned  the 
prophets,  and  wept  over  its  inevitable  fate. 

There  he  beheld,  in  vision,  the  fell  calamity,  and 
heavy  woes  which  followed — the  rage  of  battle ;  the 
crash  of  walls ;  the  terrific  flames ;  the  frightful 
famine ;  the  agony  of  hunger,  turning  men  and 
mothers  into  monsters  ;  the  city's  fall — the  bloodiest 
in  human  annals — not  a  stone  left  of  the  sanctuary, 
itself  a  wonder — its  foundations  leveled  by  the  re 
morseless  ploughshare — its  site  sown  with  salt.  It 
was  from  Olivet  the  Saviour  was  borne  to  heaven  from 

15 


170  MISCELLANIES. 

his  blest  disciples  ;  and  there  he  shall  first  place  his  feet, 
when,  with  his  angels  and  in  glory,  he  returns  again. 

That  easy  credulity  which  delights  to  locate  every 
incident  of  interest,  points  out  the  mulberry  in  the 
valley  of  Cheesemongers,  as  the  one  under  which 
Isaiah  was  sawn  assunder ;  the  grotto  in  which  Jere 
miah  dwelt ;  the  rock  which  concealed  the  disciples ; 
where  Stephen  was  stoned,  and  James  beheaded  ;  where 
Christ  ate  the  passover  on  Zion,  and  brake  the  bread, 
and  poured  the  wine,  as  memorials  of  his  blood  and 
body.  They  show  a  rock  imprinted  by  his  foot,  when 
he  was  kissed  and  bound;  the  site  of  his  prison,  where 
Peter  followed  and  denied  him ;  where  he  was  clad  in 
scarlet,  crowned  with  thorns,  spit  upon  and  smitten. 
They  show  where  he  fainted,  as  he  bore  his  cross,  fol 
lowed  by  those  gentle  women,  whom  he  bade  weep  for 
themselves  and  children. 

There,  covering  the  supposed  site  of  Calvary,  is  a 
large  church,  whose  origin  is  attributed  to  the  dream 
and  piety  of  Helena.  It  is  garnished  by  the  gorgeous 
gifts  of  generations,  and  occupied  by  the  various  sects 
of  Christianity.  Within  it,  the  foresight  of  the  Monks 
claims  to  have  discovered  every  eventful  spot.  A  plate 
in  one  place,  marks  the  centre  of  the  world,  from  which 
the  dust  of  Adam's  body  was  obtained.  Near  to  this, 
three  bright  rings  are  sunk  in  the  floor,  where  Christ 
was  crucified  between  the  thieves.  In  another  part,  the 
soldiers  cast  lots  for  the  unseamed  garment.  A  fissure 
in  the  rock  was  rent,  they  say,  when  darkness  and 
earthquake  convinced  the  Roman  that  the  Son  of  God 
had  died.  And  there  is  the  stone  of  unction,  on  which 


JERUSALEM.  171 

the  body  was  annointed ;  another,  on  which  the  angel 
sat  who  anounced  Him  risen. 

In  a  small  chapel,  of  white  marble,  perpetually 
lighted  by  gold  and  silver  lamps,  is  an  empty  sarcopha 
gus  ;  revered  for  ages,  and  by  half  the  world,  as  the 
sepulchre  of  Jesus.  For  fourteen  hundred  years,  the 
palmers  have  dared  all  danger  to  print  their  lips  upon 
its  cold  surface ;  and  kneel  beneath  its  artificial  halo. 
For  its  possession  the  armies  of  two  continents,  the 
the  chivalry  of  two  religions,  waged  ferocious  war  for 
centuries.  Around  it  yet,  hereafter,  perhaps  at  no 
far  distant  period,  will  surge  and  struggle  the  last  great 
battle  of  the  universe. 

It  is  still  the  prime  object  of  promiscuous  curiosity 
and  devotion.  It  is  besides,  the  central  point  of  those 
Christian  celebrations,  which  alone  disturb  the  mono 
tony  of  the  city.  No  other  town,  in  ordinary  times, 
has  so  dull  and  dreary  an  aspect.  There  seems  to  be 
no  absorbing  business.  There  are  none  of  the  attrac 
tions  and  improvements  of  the  day.  It  has  no  magnifi 
cent  monuments  or  palaces  ;  no  architectural  piles  like 
Paris  ;  no  museums  of  art  like  Rome  ;  no  colossal  re 
mains  like  Thebes  ;  no  signs  of  enterprise  like  London. 
You  do  not  hear  the  hum  of  spindles,  the  clank  of  ham 
mers,  nor  the  roar  of  furnace  fires.  No  vast  establish 
ments  are  burthened  with  crates.  No  drays  distribute 
merchandise;  no  railways  rattle  with  trains;  no  electric 
wires  flash  intelligence. 

The  gloom  of  night  is  uncheered  by  the  light  of  gas  ; 
and  the  tedium  of  the  day  is  unbroken  by  the  arrival 
of  a  regular  mail,  by  the  issue  of  a  newspaper,  or  the 
sight  of  coach  or  wagon.  There  are  no  juries,  no 


172  MISCELLANIES. 

learning,  no  eloquence  in  the  courts ;  and  neither  skill 
nor  science  amongst  the  sick.  There  are  no  places  of 
amusement,  no  theatres,  nor  promenades — nothing  of 
modern  style  or  spirit.  The  mass  are  practically  igno 
rant  of  all  the  progress  of  the  last  century.  And 
though  imaginative,  they  are  without  philosophers, 
scholars,  artists  and  politicians. 

Traffic  is  limited  to  the  sale  of  relics,  beads,  and  holy 
water.  The  inhabitants  live  on  the  credulity  of  pil 
grims.  The  streets  are  narrow,  dusty,  crooked,  filthy, 
steep  ;  some  with  steps  like  stairs ;  some  closed  up  like 
courts  ;  nearly  all  darkened  by  overhanging  Btories, 
and  mats  stretched  across  for  shade  ;  and  many  filled 
with  heaps  of  carrion  and  rubbish. 

Yet  these  thoroughfares  are  the  places  of  chief  re 
sort.  There  trade  bargains;  faith  prays;  justice  flogs; 
medicine  prescribes ;  poverty  begs ;  aristocracy  sips  cof 
fee  and  smokes;  the  barber  cleans  pipes  and  shaves 
heads.  There  sits  the  merchant,  cross-legged,  on  his 
calico,  waiting  for  a  bid,  but  contented  without  one. 
There  the  baker,  her  brow  adorned  with  coins,  holds 
up,  between  her  tatooed  fingers,  bread  baked  on  heated 
jars.  There  passes  the  Bedouin,  bristling  with  wea 
pons,  and  breathing  disdain  of  towns. 

You  see  there  the  huge  camel,  with  his  freight  of 
bales,  and  stomach  like  a  bath-tub ;  and  the  lunatic, 
raving,  as  his  neighbors  think,  with  inspiration,  mut 
tering  nonsense,  which  passes  for  prophecy ;  and  the 
physician,  commanding  almost  as  much  reverence  as 
the  madman,  while  he  does  not  know  the  difference 
between  the  lungs  and  the  liver,  and  though  in  a  livery 
red  as  blood,  is  ignorant  of  the  circulation  of  that  fluid 


JERUSALEM.  173 

in  the  body.  And  the  Pasha,  with  his  ferocious  sickle 
sword,  his  horse  covered  with  rich  housings,  and  two 
servants  at  the  stirrups,  with  his  pipe  and  snuff  box. 

There  stops  one  to  pick  up  a  scrap  of  paper,  lest, 
perhaps,  the  name  of  Allah  written  on  it,  should  be 
trampled  down,  and  desecrated.  You  see  the  beggar 
asking'  alms,  and  receiving  it,  or  is  gently  promised  it 
to-morrow — for  the  Moslem  deals  kindly  with  the  poor. 
You  see  a  crowd  of  wolfish  dogs,  whom  no  one  owns, 
and  every  one  feeds.  And  the  police  officer  restoring 
peace  with  his  thong  of  rhinoceros  skin. 

You  see  the  judge,  who  smokes  while  he  condemns 
the  murderer  to  a  fine  of  One  hundred  camels.  And 
the  schoolboys,  who  complete  their  education  by  learn 
ing,  in  a  singing  concert,  to  read  the  Koran,  and  to 
count  a  hundred  on  their  fingers.  And  the  scribe,  with 
his  inkhorn  in  his  sash,  such  as  Ezekiel  saw,  writing 
from  right  to  left,  on  his  hand,  as  on  a  table. 

You  see  the  Moslem  funeral  train,  moving  to  the  grave 
already  full,  with  rapid  step,  for  the  soul  they  say,  is  rest 
less  till  the  uncoffined  corpse  is  buried  ;  while  hired  female 
mourners  beat  their  bosoms,  tear  their  hair,  and  cry  in 
their  artificial  anguish  :  "  He  was  here  yesterday,  he 
is  gone  to  day,  he  will  not  return  to-morrow."  You  see 
the  bride  going  to  her  husband's  home,  escorted  by  a 
bevy  of  companions  with  splendid  dresses  and  wretched 
music. 

Every  Moslem  has  a  right  to  four  wives,  though  he 
often  waives  it  on  the  score  of  economy  and  quiet. 
Divorces  may  be  had  for  asking,  but  the  offspring,  and 
her  portion  follow  the  mother.  Parties  are  betrothed, 
without  a  personal  acquaintance,  by  their  parents.  Thus 


174  MISCELLANIES. 

the  burthen  of  courtship,  and  the  torture  of  suspense 
are  avoided  ;  love  is  postponed  till  the  marriage  ;  and 
the  torch  of  Hymen  lights  the  arrows  of  Cupid.  Young 
brides  often  tease  their  husbands  by  visits  to  their  kins 
folks,  in  order  to  heighten  their  ardor  by  absence,  and 
prolong  the  novelty  of  the  honey  moon. 

They  live  apart  in  the  harem ;  where  they  gossip, 
quarrel  and  embroider.  But  they  can  neither  read  nor 
write,  nor  sing  a  line  of  music.  They  do  not  mingle 
with  the  other  sex  at  parties,  prayers,  or  meals.  They 
are  never  the  subject  of  conversation  amongst  men — it 
would  be  as  indecent  to  remark  on  one's  faults,  as  to  in 
quire  about  the  health  of  his  wives.  Generally  their 
close  or  partial  mask  of  muslin,  like  the  silver  veil  of 
Mokanna,  conceals  an  ugly  face.  Their  brilliant  eyes 
are  exposed,  and  flash  with  magnetic  sparks — the  true 
telegraph  of  passion. 

They  ride  out  on  gay  donkeys,  seated  astride,  with  a 
boy  behind  to  goad  the  beast,  and  direct  its  course. 
They  walk  about  in  yellow  slippers,  muffled  up  in  sheets 
like  corpses,  and  seen  amongst  the  graves  which  they 
visit  on  Fridays,  look  like  the  risen  ghosts  of  the  cemetery. 
They  are  regarded  as  toys,  at  times  as  slaves  ;  their  sal 
vation  is  a  trifle,  as  they  are  superseded  in  Paradise  by 
women  made  of  musk. 

The  dwellings  are  chiefly  stone  ;  with  flat  roofs  for 
sleep  or  rest ;  dark  in  the  basement ;  the  door  lock  is  a 
bolt,  and  the  door  key  a  nail  driven  in  a  stick.  The 
second  floor  is  terraced,  furnished  with  mats,  divans  and 
ottomans  ;  and  windows  are  long  and  latticed,  to  keep 
out  both  sun  and  sin.  Proverbs  are  pasted  on  the 
walls,  as  talismans  against  vermin,  but  with  apparent 


JERUSALEM.  175 

ill  success.  Amulets  are  worn  as  bracelets  to  guard 
against  unlucky  days,  and  the  evil  eye. 

They  eat  on  the  floor  ;  use  napkins  for  plates ;  their 
fingers  instead  of  knives  and  forks,  and  thus  enjoy  at 
once  both  touch  and  taste.  They  are  forbidden  the  use 
of  wine,  but  stolen  waters  are  sweet,  and  stolen  liquor 
is  sweeter  ;  and  men  get  very  drunk  on  arrack,  distilled 
from  dates. 

You  see  them  in  the  bath,  where,  after  passing  the 
ordeal  of  heat,  steam  and  soapsuds,  a  servant  rubs  off 
the  skin  like  shavings  ;  cuts  the  nails  to  the  quick ; 
places  them  on  a  couch  ;  and  there,  inhaling  smoke 
through  rosewater,  and  sipping  coffee  thick  as  honey, 
from  cups  like  egg  shells,  they  anticipate  the  ease,  the 
aroma,  and  the  beverage  of  heaven. 

You  see  the  story  teller,  enchanting  crowds  with  a 
beautiful  mythology  of  Peris  and  Fairies  ;  with  the  gal 
lantries  of  angels ;  the  exploits  of  dreadful  robbers  ; 
the  merits  of  sainted  Sheiks ;  reciting  fables  about 
jeweled  halls  ;  groves  with  silver  leaves ;  women  fair 
as  the  blossoms  of  jasmine ;  warriors  firm  as  rocks  ; 
horses  swift  as  the  storm ;  hospitality  generous  as 
the  dew ;  fidelity  true  as  the  stars.  You  see  also 
the  exhibition  of  the  various  rites  of  the  true  faith  and 
the  false. 

Such  is  the  present  condition — such  the  stupor,  the 
superstition,  the  ignorance  of  this  city,  once  so  populous 
and  polished. 

She  was  once  favored.  The  Deity  loved  her  better 
than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob.  She  was  esteemed  as 
the  type  of  the  first  paradise  on  earth,  or  of  the  last 
in  heaven ;  carrying  the  mind  back  to  the  Eden  of 


176  MISCELLANIES. 

Adam,  and  forward  to  the  new  Jerusalem  of  the  Apoca 
lypse. 

She  was  once  the  fairest  city  beneath  the  sun.  On 
her  ivory  throne  sat  the  wisest  of  terrestrial  kings.  In 
her  gorgeous  temple,  dwelt  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  All 
around  and  within,  were  sights  of  unequaled  beauty. 
The  golden  walls  harmonized  with  the  wealth  of  nature. 
The  lofty  spires,  brilliant  as  alabaster,  matched  the 
voluptuous  fertility  of  the  soil.  The  rippling  brooks 
answered  to  the  singing  birds.  The  flowers  of  the  val 
leys  vied  with  the  precious  ores  of  the  mountains.  Fair 
fruit  hung  upon  the  trees  ;  and  the  vines  bowed  with 
their  delicious  burthens.  The  cattle  pastured  on  a 
thousand  hills.  The  fields  waved  with  continual  har 
vests.  Groves  breathed  odoriferous  smells.  The  presses 
flowed  with  oil  and  wine.  The  music  of  cymbals  was 
heard  in  the  dwellings.  Silver  was  like  stones  in  the 
streets.  The  heights  of  Lebanon  furnished  her  with 
cedars.  The  Sidonian  artists  were  her  cunning  work 
men.  Syrian  merchants  supplied  her  with  purple. 
Egypt  sent  her  horses  and  linen.  The  mines  of  Ophir 
poured  gold  into  her  coffers.  The  ships  of  Tarshish 
wafted  her  cargoes  of  silk  and  ivory.  Monarchs  went 
thither,  like  pilgrims  and  subjects,  with  presents  and 
tribute.  And  from  the  river  to  the  land  of  the  Philis 
tines,  and  the  borders  of  Africa,  there  was  none  who 
did  not  do  her  homage.  Secure  and  happy,  she  had  no 
rival,  and  she  feared  no  foe.  Peace  was  within  her 
walls,  prosperity  within  her  palaces,  and  she  was  the 
marvel  and  joy  of  the  world.  History,  with  all  her 
volumes,  has  no  other  page  like  hers.  Nor  has  imagi 
nation,  with  all  her  poetic  colors,  painted  a  fairer  pic- 


JERUSALEM.  177 

ture.  The  fables  of  the  golden  age,  the  tales  of 
romance,  scarcely  surpass  the  authentic  glories  of  the 
Jewish  city. 

But  behold  her  now!  How  changed,  how  sad  she 
seems  upon  her  desolate  mountain,  shorn  of  her  charms! 
Widowed,  wailing,  and  in  sack  cloth !  Despoiled,  and 
trodden  down  ;  without  a  chief,  and  without  an  altar! 
Her  childen  scattered  like  the  wind  strown  leaves !  The 
signs  and  the  prophets  have  failed  her,  and  her  God  is 
deaf  to  her  prayer  ! 

But  still  she  hopes,  still  looks  for  the  promise,  when 
her  wanderers,  from  all  the  lands,  whither  they  have  been 
driven,  shall  return  with  arts,  knowledge  and  treasure. 
When  her  waste  places  shall  sing,  and  her  walls  be  laid 
with  precious  stones.  When  she  shall  be  called  to  rise 
from  the  dust  in  her  beautiful  garments,  and  be  throned 
again  in  her  pride. 


THE  EASTER  FESTIVAL. 

Pilgrims  annually  resort  to  the  Holy  City,  in  order 
to  celebrate  the  Easter  festival,  in  the  church  which 
covers  Calvary.  On  the  first  day  of  the  feast,  the 
Greeks,  with  many  tedious  ceremonies,  buried  the 
Saviour.  The  next  morning,  the  Latins  performed  the 
Invention  of  the  cross.  On  the  third  day,  when  the 
fire  is  believed,  by  the  people,  to  fall  from  heaven,  there 
ensued  a  sight  which  beggars  all  description. 

A  vast  multitude,  various  in  costume,  complexion, 
and  dialect  had  come  together — from  the  hills  of 
Attica — from  the  villages  of  Abyssynia — from  beyond 
Jordan — from  the  coast  of  Barbary — from  the  shores 
of  the  Baltic — from  the  banks  of  the  Bosphorus — from 
the  islands  of  the  Mediterranean.  They  poured  into  the 
church  like  a  tide  at  the  flood.  They  crowded  every 
avenue,  gallery,  and  niche, 

"  All  access  was  thronged ; 

The  gates  and  porches,  but  chief  the  spacious  hall 
Thick  swarmed." 

Murmurs  rose  from  them  like  the  moaning  winds  of  the 
mountain  pines.  They  swayed  to  and  fro,  with  anx 
iety  and  impatience.  A  procession  of  Greek  priests, 
with  symbolical  banners,  and  the  Patriarch  at  their 
head  gorgeously  robed,  struggled  around,  and  then 

(178) 


THE   EASTER    FESTIVAL.  179 

stopped,  before  the  tomb.  The  latter  entered,  and  at 
length  a  torch,  feigned  to  be  miraculously  fired,  was 
handed  from  the  holy  shrine.  Thousands  of  candles 
were  instantly  lighted.  Faces,  hands,  and  bosoms  were 
bathed  in  the  flames,  deemed  sacred.  The  excitement 
grew  intense,  and  became  phrensy.  The  tumult  waxed 
louder  and  louder.  They  yelled — they  howled — they 
prayed — they  cursed — they  screamed.  They  flung  up 
their  arms — they  leaped  on  one  another's  shoulders — 
they  rushed  against  one  another  in  opposite  currents — 
they  fought  like  furious  beasts.  The  police  rushed 
amongst  them  with  thongs  and  scourges,  striking  in  all 
directions.  It  seemed  if  all  were  engaged  in  one  pro 
miscuous  battle.  Every  violent,  every  wicked  passion 
was  let  loose.  Clothes  were  torn  into  rags — limbs  were 
broken — dangerous  wounds  inflicted — faces  disfigured — 
and  life  was  lost. 

This  fearful  scene  continued  amidst  noise,  and  smoke, 
and  heat,  till  dusk.  It  seemed  more  infernal  than  hu 
man  ;  more  like  a  revel  of  fiends,  than  a  feast  of  Chris 
tians  ;  more  fit  for  any  other  spot  than  around  the  sup 
posed  sepulchre  of  the  Saviour.  The  Catholics  and 
Armenians,  however,  long  ago,  denounced  a  ceremony 
so  disgracuful,  and  even  the  Greeks  are  said  to  be  grow 
ing  ashamed  of  its  scandal  and  impiety. 

The  next  morning  afterwards,  the  numerous  devotees 
were  seen,  thronging  through  the  different  gates  of  the 
city;  on  foot,  on  mules,  in  great  companies,  and  in  pairs, 
departing  for  their  far  off  homes,  amidst  the  contempt  of 
dogs  and  Turks.  So  terminated  that  feast,  which  was 
once  so  popular  and  important  in  all  the  Christian 
Church ;  which  cost  so  much  labor  and  discussion  to  fix 


180  MISCELLANIES. 

the  period  of  its  return ;  which  occasioned  rules  in  coun 
cils,  decretals,  and  the  new  Calendar ;  which  was  inten 
ded  to  commemorate  the  Resurrection ;  which  corres 
ponds  with  the  passover  of  the  Jews ;  which  is  called 
after  that  Pagan  mistress  of  the  passions, 

"  To  whose  brightMmage,  uightly  by  the  moon, 
Sidonian  virgins  paid  their  vows  and  songs." 


m> 


JORDAN  ROBBERS. 

I  employed  a  sheik  and  four  men,  the  usual  guard 
for  this  journey.  But  the  dragoman  considering  him 
self  and  the  sheik  sufficient  for  protection,  sent  his  men 
and  the  baggage  to  meet  us  at  Jericho.  Well  mounted, 
we  passed  eastwardly  over  desolate  hills  of  stone  and 
sand,  down  ravines,  along  the  edge  of  rocks,  and  in 
six  or  eight  hpurs  we  reached  the  spacious  plain  of  the 
Dead  Sea. 

A  strange  loneliness  and  gloom  prevailed.  A  few 
bushes  were  seen,  but  no  birds  were  there,  and  a  single 
gazelle  was  the  only  creature  that  crossed  our  path. 
The  mountains  of  Moab  cast  doleful  shadows  upon  the 
mysterious  lake.  Its  heavy  waves  rolling  slowly  upon 
the  beach,  rattled  like  sheets  of  metal,  or  like  muffled 
bells,  the  requiem  of  the  buried  cities.  I  bathed  in  its 
waters,  transparent  as  glass,  and  which  buoyed  the 
body  up,  and  burned  the  lips  like  vitriol.  The  blasted 
shores  seemed  strewed  with  salt  and  brimstone.  The 
atmosphere  was  impregnated  with  a  bituminous  odor. 

We  proceeded  up  by  the  shores  of  the  Jordan.  The 
sheik  and  dragoman  were  in  high  spirits.  They  dis 
played  their  skill  in  the  saddle,  and  the  mettle  of  their 
horses.  They  galloped  forward,  returned,  and  grasped 
objects  on  the  ground  without  stopping.  The  sheik 
had  a  long  lance,  the  only  weapon  in  the  party,  and 

(181)  16 


182  MISCELLANIES. 

charged  with  it  on  imaginary  foes.  Both  careened 
wildly  around,  shouting  and  laughing  defiance  at  all 
the  Bedouins  in  the  land. 

We  halted  at  the  spot  on  the  Jordan  where  they  say 
the  Saviour  was  baptized  by  John.  I  was  smarting 
from  my  asphaltic  bath,  which  seemed  to  have  robed 
me  with  a  shirt  of  fire.  I  sought  along  the  borders  of 
that  narrow  and  tumultuous  stream,  for  a  place  to  wash 
in  its  lucid  waves.  Disappointed  by  the  abrupt  and 
crumbling  banks,  I  was  returning,  when  some  twenty 
armed  Arabs  came  stealing  towards  us  from  the  bushes. 
For  an  instant  it  seemed  they  might  be  friends.  But 
their  numbers,  and  movements,  showed  their  hostile 
purpose.  They  were  as  wild  and  picturesque  banditti 
as  ever  robbed  or  killed.  They  crouched  like  beasts  of 
prey,  or  like  hunters,  or  like  Indians,  with  their  pieces 
leveled.  They  advanced  behind  the  sheik  and  drago 
man,  as  they  were  watering  the  horses.  I  shouted  the 
alarm.  My  men  rushed  into  the  stream.  Unseen  be 
fore,  I  became  the  target  of  a  score  of  guns.  A  bullet 
whistled  near. 

I  took  shelter  behind  a  wild  fig  tree,  whose  branches 
reached  to  the  ground.  There  quite  helpless,  without 
even  a  penknife,  stick,  or  stone  for  defence  ;  suspicious  of 
my  guides ;  ignorant  of  the  language,  and  of  the  country, 
I  had  to  await  the  issue.  The  imagination  was  not  in 
active.  Stories  of  highwaymen  and  savages,  of  bar 
barian  slaves  and  tortured  captives,  passed  swiftly 
through  the  mind.  For  a  time,  the  chance  of  escape 
'  appeared  hopeless. 

Four  Arabs,  with  guns  and  knives,  prowled  around 
the  place  I  left,  and  within  the  shadow  of  the  tree  which 


JORDAN    ROBBERS.  183 

sheltered  me.  Some  of  them  stood  off  on  guard  to  pre-. 
vent  surprise.  Some  searched  the  saddle  bags.  The 
others  secured  the  horses;  dragged  the  guides  out  of 
the  water,  and  stript  them  to  their  shirts.  Part  of  them 
mounting  our  beasts,  they  all  went  off  in  triumph  and 
swiftly  disappeared. 

From  necessity  we  walked  over  rocks  and  sand  for 
several  miles,  and  entered  Jericho  very  tired  and  very 
humble.  There  my  men,  like  David's  messengers,  were 
compelled  to  tarry  for  breeches,  though  not  for  beards. 
Having  rested  and  refreshed,  I  proposed  the  next  morn 
ing  to  the  Turkish  officer,  in  command  there  of  ten 
soldiers,  a  joint  expedition,  at  my  expense,  against  the 
robbers.  He  laughed  at  the  scheme,  and  said  it  was 
impossible  to  find  them  in  the  mountains.  Then  ob 
serving  that  I  had  escaped  without  the  loss  of  clothes 
or  money,  he  added,  very  gravely,  that  "  Allah  had  al 
ready  blessed  me." 

A  trifling  number  of  Arab  huts  compose  the  modern 
village  of  Jericho.  Some  foundation  walls,  and  crush 
ed  aqueducts,  are  all  that  remain  of  the  ancient  city  of 
palms.  From  its  elevated  site,  a  wide  and  sorrowful 
prospect  stretches  over  the  once  populous  and  prosperous 
plain.  You  may  see  whence  went  up,  as  from  a  fur 
nace,  the  smoke  of  the  guilty  cities,  for  which  Abram 
pleaded  with  the  angels,  and  which  ten  righteous  would 
have  saved.  You  may  see  where  Zoar  stood,  which 
Lot  entered  as  the  sun  rose,  when  forewarned,  he  es 
caped  for  his  life.  You  see  Pisgah,  where  Moses  be 
held  the  land  he  should  not  reach — where  Israel  cross 
ed  dry  shod  the  Jordan,  and  kept  the  first  passover  in 
Canaan ;  and  threw  the  ancient  walls  down  by  the 


184  MISCELLANIES. 

trumpets  and  the  shouting.  You  may  taste  of  the 
spring  Elisha  sweetened,  and  pass  by  the  house  of 
Zaccheus. 

Hence  to  Jerusalem  the  way  leads  over  high  hills — by 
public  wells  and  fallen  Khans — along  rough  paths — 
through  suspicious  places.  Some  one  of  which,  was 
the  scene  of  that  parable,  which  showed  who  was  neigh 
bor  to  him  that  fell  among  the  thieves.  Thence  on  by 
Bethany,  by  the  house  and  tomb  of  Lazarus,  where 
Mary  met  the  Saviour,  when  his  tears  told  how  he  loved 
her  brother. 


THE  JEWS. 

The  Jews  are  a  marvelous  people.  They  have  re 
tained  their  individuality,  their  sabbaths,  their  cere 
monies,  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  thirty-five  hun 
dred  years,  and  in  all  the  regions  of  the  globe.  Other 
races  have  flourished  and  left  splendid  monuments  of 
civilization,  and  been  lost  amongst  the  crowds  of  new 
generations. 

We  cannot  to-day  recognize  the  descendants  of  those 
who  built  the  mysterious  temples  of  Thebes ;  nor  of 
those  who  enjoyed  the  palaces  of  Nineveh,  and  the 
hanging  gardens  of  Babylon ;  nor  of  those  who  raised 
the  columns  of  the  Parthenon ;  nor  of  those  who  shared 
in  the  glory  of  the  Forum,  and  the  triumph  of  the 
legions.  But  the  Jews  are  among  us  now,  claiming  a 
national  character,  which  throws  in  the  shade  the  oldest 
dynasties  of  Europe. 

It  existed  when  the  Druids  sacrificed  at  Stonehenge ; 
when  barbarians,  in  wolf  skins,  hunted  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine ;  when  the  Assyrians  worshiped  in  the  temple 
of  Belus ;  and  the  Pharaohs  reigned  in  the  valley  of 
Egypt ;  before  the  Caesars  ruled  Rome,  or  the  Orators 
ruled  Athens.  They  have  suffered  for  ages.  They 
have  been  persecuted,  branded,  banished,  enslaved, 
sold  like  cattle,  tortured,  imprisoned,  cursed,  cropped, 
stoned,  crucified,  torn  by  wild  beasts,  put  to  the  sword, 

(185) 


186  MISCELLANIES. 

committed  to  the  flames.  They  have  been  vagrants  on 
the  earth,  the  byeword  of  the  nations,  seeking  peace, 
but  obtaining  none — 

"  Like  that  bird  of  Thrace, 

Whose  pinions  find  no  resting  place." 

Yet  as  serfs,  nobles,  felons,  outcasts,  bankers,  beg 
gars,  and  martyrs,  they  have  always  been  a  peculiar 
people,  clinging  to  their  traditions,  standing  ever  on 
their  ancient  ways. 

As  a  nation,  they  were  not  distinguished  in  the  arts 
and  sciences.  Their  prophets  were  poets,  and  soared 
to  the  "highest  heaven  of  invention."  Their  historians 
were  graphic  and  concise.  But  they  made  little  pro 
gress  in  mathematics,  in  astronomy,  in  chemistry,  in 
painting,  in  statuary,  or  in  architecture.  They  no 
more  contrived  their  house  of  worship,  than  they  form 
ed  their  laws.  The  Temple,  like  the  Pentateuch,  was  a 
revelation.  It  was  a  type  they  could  not  improve,  and 
durst  not  copy.  Nor  was  divine  knowledge  exclusively 
confined  to  them.  It  had  been  experienced  by  the 
Gentiles  before  the  Exodus,  and  between  that  period 
and  the  Christian  era. 

There  were  some  wholesome  doctrines  in  the  creed  of 
the  old  Orientals.  There  was  the  perfect  and  upright 
man  of  Uz — the  believing  priest  of  Midian — the 
righteous  king  of  Salem — the  devout  Centurion  of 
Caesarea — the  resolute  faith  of  Socrates — the  sublime 
sentiments  of  Plato — the  beautiful  pastoral  of  Virgil. 
But  these  were  single  instances,  or  obscured  by 
grossest  errors,  and  only  glimpses  of  the  truth.  While 
the  word  was  given  to  Israel  with  the  die  of  heaven 
on  it. 


J    THE   JEWS.  187 

Their  leaders  spoke  face  to  face,  with  the  Deity,  as 
with  a  friend.  It  was  their  dwellings  which  the  angel 
of  death  passed  over.  It  was  their  camp  before  which 
went  the  pillars  of  cloud  and  fire.  For  them  the  floods 
stood  upright,  and  the  sea  became  dry  ground.  For 
them  the  sky  rained  manna — the  rocks  gushed  with 
water — the  fruitful  land  was  conquered.  Yet  they  for 
got  this  miraculous  care.  Thay  followed  after  strange 
idolatries,  heathen  abominations, 

"  And  oft  forsook 

Their  living  strength,  and  unfrequented  left 
His  righteous  altars ;  bowing  lowly  down 
To  bestial  gods." 

They  sacrificed  on  the  eminent  places,  in  the  valleys, 
under  the  green  oaks,  to  license,  homicide  and  hate. 
They  stoned  the  prophets,  sent  to  warn  them  of  sin 
and  judgment.  They  crucified  Him  who  brought  them 
a  new  covenant — who  taught  them  a  new  commandment 
— who  would  have  gathered  them  under  his  wing. 

The  day  of  visitation  came  upon  the  Jew.  How  low 
he  stands  amongst  the  tombs  of  his  fathers,  and  in  the 
very  city  of  his  soul.  Jerusalem,  in  Hebrew,  the  in 
heritance  of  repose,  yields  none  to  him.  Even  there 
he  finds  none  more  humble  than  himself.  He  beholds 
the  symbols  of  fanaticism  over  the  place  whence  the 
daily  sacrifice  ascended  with  the  sun.  He  hears  the 
imposter's  cry — "  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and  Ma 
homet  is  his  prophet,"  from  the  spot  where  the  priest 
was  wont  to  say — uThe  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee." 

All  around  him  rise  associations  dear  to  his  heart — 
the  lessons  of  childhood — the  words  of  the  law — the 
anthem  of  the  singers — the  visions  of  promise.  The 


188  MISCELLANIES. 

voices  of  ages  ring  in  his  ears.  The  spirits  of  the  past 
crowd  before  him — the  faithful — the  prudent — the 
mighty  men  of  old — heroic  leaders — lofty  prophets — 
illustrious  kings.  He  recalls  the  faith  of  Abraham, 
the  sagacity  of  Moses,  the  inspirations  of  Esaias,  the 
mourning  of  Jeremy,  the  victories  of  David,  the  glory 
of  Solomon.  He  sighs  for  the  departed  sceptre.  He 
weeps  more  bitterly  than  the  captive  Daughters,  when  he 
remembers  Zion.  Burning,  but  not  perishing  ;  blinded 
by  obduracy ;  infatuated  with  his  exhausted  Ritual — he 
denies  the  miracle  he  proves — he  still  fails  to  compre 
hend  the  truth  and  clemency  of  heaven — he  still  fails 
to  perceive  the  light  which  shone  through  the  parted 
Vail,  and  whose  risen  brightness  is  illuminating  all  the 
nations  but  his  own. 


BETHLEHEM. 

This  renowned  place  is  a  village  of  about  two  thou 
sand  people,  and  is  situated  on  a  ridge  of  rocks.  The 
streets  are  like  bridle  paths,  but  they  are  sufficiently 
convenient,  as  there  are  no  wheeled  vehicles  in  all  the 
land.  Beads,  made  of  wood  and  berries,  shells  rudely 
carved  with  scriptural  scenes,  and  asphaltum  cut  in  the 
shape  of  bibles,  are  the  staple  articles  of  traffic.  Wo 
men  are  seen  in  gaily  colored  shawls,  such  perhaps  as 
the  Virgin  wore  ;  and  such  as  Raphael  has  painted  in 
the  Madonna  della  Seggiola. 

A  large  church  and  convent,  of  different  periods  of 
construction,  cover  the  supposed  place  of  the  Nativity. 
A  kind  of  cavern,  such  as  in  the  East  may  be  some 
times  seen,  occupied  as  stables,  is  in  one  end  of  the 
building.  The  natural  roof  is  concealed  by  drapery. 
A  star  on  the  marble  floor  marks  the  birth  place  of  the 
Saviour,  and  a  silver  plate  on  a  polished  altar,  indicates 
the  site  of  the  manger.  Some  score  and  a  half  of 
costly  lamps  are  there  burning,  night  and  day.  Pil 
grims,  from  all  quarters,  are  continually  meeting  in  this 
subterranean  chapel,  and  pressing  their  lips  upon  the 
consecrated  stones. 

Near  by,  is  the  room  in  which  St.  Jerome  wrote  the 
Vulgate  scripture;  and  adjoining  it,  are  the  graves  of 

Eusebius,  of  Paula,  and  the  innocents,  slain  by  Herod. 

(189) 


190  MISCELLANIES. 

From  an  eminence  may  be  seen  a  valley,  circular  as  a 
basin,  and  the  only  fertile  feature  in  the  landscape. 
There,  they  say,  the  startled  shepherds  heard  the  angels' 
voices,  "  announcing  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to 
man."  In  an  opposite  direction  are  the  three  pools  of 
Solomon.  They  are  ranged  one  above  another,  they 
once  supplied  Jerusalem  with  water,  and  still  seem 
large  and  full  enough  to  float  a  fleet.  Towards  the 
north,  a  small  plain  building,  with  a  dome,  its  walls 
scribbled  over  with  letters  of  all  languages,  is  said  to  be 
the  tomb  of  Rachel. 

These  localities  may  not  be  the  sites  of  those  events 
with  which  tradition  has  identified  them.  But  in  this 
neighborhood  those  marvelous  scenes  occurred.  Hither 
Joseph  and  the  Virgin  came  to  be  numbered,  and  taxed 
under  the  edict  of  Caesar.  Near  here,  stood  the  crowded 
inn ;  the  stable,  in  which  the  son  of  man  was  born 
and  cradled,  over  which  shone  the  auspicious  glory  of 
the  star ;  and  in  which  the  rejoicing  Magi  poured  out 
their  bales  of  precious  gifts. 

This  was  also  the  scene  of  David's  youth.  Amongst 
those  hills  and  glens  he  kept  his  flocks,  and  grew  in 
comeliness  and  vigor.  Here  he  was  anointed  by 
the  prophet ;  and  his  character  moulded  by  that  grace 
of  heaven,  which  inspired  his  victorious  heroism  over 
the  wild  beasts  and  the  vaunting  giants — his  tender 
friendship,  passing  the  love  of  woman,  which  knit  his 
soul  with  Jonathan's — his  exalted  patriotism,  in  reliev 
ing  the  beseiged  Keilah,  when  its  ruler  sought  his  life — 
his  generous  forbearance  towards  the  helpless,  hostile 
Saul — his  strict  justice,  in  slaying  the  sons  of  Rimmon, 
the  murderers  of  his  foe — his  lofty  continence  towards 


BETHLEHEM.  191 

the  beautiful  Abigail — his  noble  self-denial,  in  refusing 
to  slake  his  thirst  in  water,  procured  by  the  periled  life 
of  friends — his  magnanimous  confidence  in  the  hospi 
tality  of  Achish,  his  enemy — his  patient  dignity,  in 
enduring  the  curses  of  the  son  of  Gera — his  affection 
ate  grief  over  the  loss  of  unfilial  Absalom — his  ju 
dicious  and  compassionate  policy  towards  the  conquered 
rebels — his  sincere  repentance  for  his  crimes,  and  un 
faltering  faith  under  chastisement — his  prolific  genius, 
chanting  praises  and  prophecies,  in  strains  immortal. 


BELIGIOUS  SECTS  IN  JERUSALEM. 

Various  religious  creeds  are  represented  in  this  city. 
It  seems  like  a  capital  of  catholic  worship — the  shrine 
of  all  believers.  You  see  the  observance  of  three  Sab 
baths  in  one  week;  adverse  ceremonies  in  the  same 
chnrch  ;  hostile  pilgrims  bending  over  the  same  tomb. 

The  Imaum  in  a  green  turban,  the  badge  of  Mahomet's 
kindred,  explains,  on  holy  Friday,  the  faith  of  Islam. 
The  disciple  must  wash  his  hands  and  feet  in  sand  or 
water,  as  a  wholesome  preparation  for  meals  and  wor 
ship — curb  his  appetite  by  fasting,  and  on  certain  days 
abstain  from  even  the  odor  of  a  flower — abhor  idols, 
avoid  blood  and  swine,  any  thing  strangled,  accidental 
ly  killed  or  naturally  dead.  He  must  make  a  pilgrim 
age  to  Mecca  ;  with  his  face  thitherward,  pray  five  times 
a  day,  by  standing,  kneeling  and  prostration  ;  and  re 
member  that  the  oftener  his  brow  meets  the  ground,  the 
greater  its  proof  against  infernal  fires.  He  must  believe 
in  inexorable  fate  ;  in  the  unity  of  God  ;  the  mission  of 
the  Prophet ;  the  existence  of  Genii,  liable  to  be  damned 
and  capable  of  heaven.  He  must  watch  for  the  signs — 
the  issuing  of  a  monster  from  the  Kaaba,  the  advent  of 
Jesus,  the  appearance  of  Gog  and  Magog.  Then  the 
filling  of  the  earth  with  smoke,  the  speaking  of  dumb 
beasts,  and  a  strong  wind  which  shall  sweep  away  the 
faithless.  Then  the  opening  of  the  judgment  when  each 

(192) 


RELIGIOUS  SECTS  IN  JERUSALEM.  193 

one's  words  shall  be  weighed,  the  crossing  of  the  narrow 
bridge  to  Paradise,  the  draught  at  the  Prophet's  pond. 
Then  the  repose  beneath  that  tree  which  satisfies  all  de 
sires  ;  whose  shadow  reaches  over  a  journey  of  a  hundred 
years  ;  from  which  flow  streams  of  wine  and  honey  ;  by 
which  lovely  virgins  dwell,  with  all  the  charms  of  sense, 
and  all  the  purity  of  spirit,  not  made  of  clay,  but  per 
fumes. 

You  meet  the  Greek  priest,  who  wears  a  black  velvet 
robe  and  square  cap,  and  represents  the  largest  branch 
of  the  Christian  Church.  He  believes  in  transubstanti- 
ation ;  predestination ;  the  invocation  of  saints  ;  the  pro 
priety  of  pictures  ;  the  efficacy  of  relics  ;  the  immersion 
of  infants,  and  their  communion  on  bread  sopped  in 
warm  wine  and  water.  But  he  rejects  instrumental 
music  in  the  service ;  the  doctrines  of  infallibility,  su 
pererogation,  and  indulgences. 

The  Franciscan  monk  mortifies  the  flesh,  in  a  coarse 
brown  robe,  girt  with  a  cord.  It  is  his  only  garment, 
and  he  wears  it  night  and  day. 

The  Copts  are  the  scribes,  and  write  for  the  govern 
ment,  and  for  the  ignorant.  They  may  be  seen  in  white 
turbans,  with  puffed  cheeks  and  mulatto  skins,  scrib 
bling  from  right  to  left  in  the  police  office,  or  at  the 
street  corners.  They  believe  in  one  unmixed  nature  of 
Christ,  in  transubstantiation,  circumcision,  and  the 
baptism  by  fire. 

The  Armenians  are  the  merchants,  the  farmers 
of  customs,  the  shippers,  and  traders  by  caravans. 
They  may  be  seen  in  their  gaudy  and  costly  church, 
whose  walls  are  lined  with  porcelain,  partaking  of  the 

17 


194  MISCELLANIES. 

communion  as  they  lie  prostrate,  amidst  the  ringing  of 
bells  and  the  glare  of  torches. 

You  meet  the  Pilgrim  with  the  white  dust  of  travel 
on  his  sandals,  borne  thither  many  a  league,  to  see  the 
blessed  city  of  three  religions.  He  comes  to  bathe  his 
shroud  and  body  in  the  Jordan,  holier  than  Abana  or 
Pharpar — to  loiter  amongst  the  avenues  and  fountains, 
and  bend  in  worship  beneath  the  lofty  dome  of  Omar's 
Mosque.  To  behold  the  scenes,  hallowed  by  His  incar 
nation,  whose  life  was  truth ;  whose  miracles  were 
charities ;  whose  passions  were  virtues  ;  who  mingled  the 
attributes  of  two  natures  ;  the  graces  and  glories  of  two 
worlds ;  the  authority  of  a  spirit,  with  the  humility  of  a 
mortal ;  who  sealed  his  humanity  by  death,  his  -divinity 
by  resurrection. 

You  meet  some  of  those  descendants  on  whom  their 
fathers  invoked  the  retribution  of  His  blood.  Who  are 
strangers  there  as  elsewhere ;  a  few  of  them  in  affluence, 
but  secluded  ;  many  of  them  sustained  by  foreign  alms. 


FROM  BEER  TO  TYRE. 

Beer,  the  Mickmash  of  the  scriptures,  which  gave 
Jotham  a  refuge  when  he  fled  from  Abimelech,  is  now 
a  squalid  place,  filled  with  dogs  and  children,  who  bark 
and  howl  at  Christian  trowsers  when  they  pass.  Beyond, 
the  road  is  rough,  toilsome  and  perilous,  and  leads  by 
streams  and  gaps — through  villages  of  mud  and  stone. 
You  meet  women  with  tatooed  cheeks  and  chins,  car 
rying  pitchers  on  their  shoulders,  recalling  the  days  of 
Rebecca.  You  see  mounted  Arabs,  of  sinister  aspect, 
arrayed  in  flowing  blouses,  with  long  spears,  journeying 
like  errant  knights,  or  the  highwaymen  of  the  novels. 
You  see  a  camp  of  Pilgrims,  returning  baptized  from  the 
Jordan,  with  mules  and  horses  decked  with  jingling  bells 
and  Bethlehem  beads. 

You  pass  the  field  which  Jacob  purchased  when  he 
came  from  Padan  Aram ;  and  the  well  he  digged.  There, 
long  after,  the  Saviour  wearied  with  his  travel  through 
Judea,  met  the  woman  of  Samaria,  and  taught  her  of 
that  water,  which  springs  up  unto  everlasting  life  ;  and 
of  that  devotion,  which  prefers  to  worship,  neither  on 
the  mountain,  nor  in  the  city,  but  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 
You  see  where  Joseph  was  buried  when  brought  out  of 
Egypt ;  and  the  rude  monument  which  the  Moslems  have 
raised  to  him,  as  one  of  the  Patriarchs  of  the  Koran. 

(195) 


196  MISCELLANIES. 

On  opposite  sides  are  the  lofty  mountains  of  Gerizim 
and  Ebal,  where  the  people  heard  the  blessing  and  the 
curse. 

Near  by,  amongst  olive  and  orange  trees,  with  birds 
singing,  and  water  purling  through  the  streets,  is  Nab- 
lous,  once  Shechem,  a  name  as  old  as  Abram.  There, 
the  remnant  of  Samaritans  dwell,  retain  their  ancient 
faith ;  sacrifice  four  times  a  year  on  the  top  of 
Gerizim  ;  and  chant  their  service  on  Saturday,  their 
Sabbath.  You  may  listen  before  the  church,  which 
none  may  enter  except  barefooted  or  in  slippers,  and  an 
ofliciating  clerk  with  others,  will  leave  the  altar  and  beg 
you  for  a  present. 

Haifa  day  beyond,  on  a  high  point,  in  view  of  the 
sea,  a  deep  valley  around  it  like  a  vast  moat,  is  the 
site  of  ancient  Samaria.  Two  Arab  huts,  a  ruined 
church  of  the  middle  ages,  built,  it  is  said,  where  the 
Baptist  was  beheaded,  some  marble  columns  in  rows, 
prostrate  and  standing  amongst  growing  corn,  occupy 
at  present  the  capital  seat  of  the  idolatrous  kings  of 
Israel,  and  the  ten  lost  tribes.  Jezreel  is  now  Jezreen, 
a  village  of  fifty  souls,  where  Naboth  was  murdered  for 
his  vineyard,  and  Jezebel  eaten  by  the  dogs.  From  its 
elevated  situation,  with  little  Hermon  on  the  right,  and 
Mount  Carmel  on  the  distant  shore,  you  may  look  over 
the  magnificent  valley  of  Esdraleon,  the  battle  field  of 
Napoleon,  and  of  Saul ;  and  Shunem,  where  lived  the 
widow  whose  hospitality  obtained  the  blessing  of  the 
man  of  God. 

Nain  is  still  the  name  of  a  village,  where  that  merci 
ful  miracle  restored  her  only  son  to  the  widowed  mother, 


FROM  BEER  TO  TYRE.  197 

as  she  went  weeping  after  him  to  the  grave.  Half  an 
hour  beyond,  on  a  wild  and  cavernous  hill  side,  is  Endor. 
Calves  are  stabled,  and  hens  nestle  in  the  grotto,  where 
the  Witch,  at  the  troubled  king's  entreaty,  disquieted  the 
rest  of  Samuel. 

Passing  by  Mount  Tabor,  which  rises,  like  a  perfect 
cone,  glorious  amongst  the  mountains ;  and  over  some 
undulating  ground,  covered  with  live  oaks  and  lentil 
bushes,  you  descend  with  the  evening  shadows  into  the 
vale  of  Nazareth.  The  town  of  white  houses  is  beauti 
ful  at  a  distance,  but  foul  within.  The  spot  where  Ga 
briel  hailed  the  virgin ;  the  shop,  a  cave,  in  which  Joseph 
wrought ;  the  rock  on  which  the  Master  and  his  disciples 
ate,  are  amongst  the  traditionary  localities  of  the  city, 
in  which  Jesus  passed  his  youth.  Cana  of  Galilee,  is 
now  a  Christian  village,  and  associated  with  the  miracle 
which  made  the  water  wine. 

Beyond  the  mountains,  covered  with  wild  barley, 
where  the  multitude  feasted  on  the  loaves  and  fishes, 
and  left  fragments,  is  Tiberias.  Its  walls  are  rent  and 
shattered  as  the  earthquake  left  them  thirty  years  ago. 
There  is  the  sea  on  which  the  disciples  toiled  with  their 
nets  ;  on  which  Christ  walked ;  whose  waves  he  stilled  in 
the  storm  ;  from  whose  shores  he  spoke  in  parables  to  the 
people. 

The  great  Mount  Hermon  is  on  the  left,  crowned  with 
snow.  Opposite  are  Bethsaida  and  Capernaum,  those 
stubborn  cities,  the  scenes  of  mighty  works  which  would 
have  saved  Sodom  from  her  fate.  A  day's  journey 
thence  is  Acre,  famous  for  the  siege  and  failure  of  Na 
poleon.  Within  the  vast  area  of  the  plain  around  it, 


198  MISCELLANIES. 

armies  might  have  room  to  battle  for  the  empire  of  the 
world.  Passing  thence  along  the  coast,  you  meet,  per 
haps,  a  Bedouin  driving  a  dromedary  and  a  pair  of  kids, 
as  presents  for  some  marriage  feast. 

Traversing  a  tongue  of  land  which  extends  far  into  the 
sea,  you  enter  over  piles  of  dirt,  an  humble  village, 
whose  streets  are  small,  and  foul  as  sewers.  You  see 
men  and  boys  fishing  from  the  foundation  rocks  of  an 
cient  castles  ;  and  the  only  ship  in  the  harbor,  receiving 
a  cargo  of  excavated  monuments  !  This  is  Tyre ! 
The  blasted  witness  of  her  own  sins.  She  has  accom 
plished  her  predicted  doom.  She  exhibits,  to-day,  the 
desolation  which  the  Seer  beheld,  when  she  was  the 
glorious  city  of  the  sea — when  the  nations  traded  in  her 
fairs — when  commerce  sailed  in  her  navies — when  her 
palaces  were  gorgeous  with  golden  dust,  and  stones  of 
fire ! 


PASSPORTS,  CUSTOM  HOUSES  AND  QUA 
RANTINE. 

Every  traveler  has  had  cause  to  complain  of  these 
three  institutions.  He  is  apt  to  believe  that  they  were 
intended  to  obstruct  international  intercourse.  The 
time  which  they  cause  him  to  loose;  the  irritation  and 
imposition  to  which  they  expose  him ;  the  fees  and 
bribes  which  they  compel  him  to  pay,  are  sufficient 
reasons  for  his  prejudice.  That  he  must  carry  with 
him,  in  time  of  peace,  an  official  description  of  his 
person  and  citizenship,  to  show  that  he  is  not  a  revolu 
tionist  ;  that  he  must  consent  to  the  invasion  of  his 
baggage,  to  convince  petty  officers  that  he  is  no  smug 
gler  ;  that  he  must  be  deprived  for  days  of  his  liberty, 
in  order  to  prove  that  he  has  no  infectious  disease — are 
regulations  which  do  seem  to  militate  against  the  spirit 
of  the  times. 

Some  of  these  inconveniencies  are  much  modified  by 
the  liberality  of  governments,  and  the  politeness  of  its 
officers.  Yet  no  delicacy  in  its  administration  can 
make  the  passport  system  very  popular.  That  docu 
ment  requires  the  seals  of  the  police  office  of  the  place 
one  leaves,  of  his  own  national  representative,  and  of 
the  representatives  of  the  countries  through  which  he 
will  pass,  and  to  which  he  is  bound.  As  the  offices  at 

which  applications  must  be  made,  for  this  purpose,  are 

(199) 


200  MISCELLANIES. 

open  only  at  certain  hours;  are  often  a  considerable 
distance  apart ;  and  often  thronged  ;  serious  delays 
consequently  occur. 

Being  desirous  of  hastening  to  Italy,  I  was  obliged 
to  await  three  days  the  official  permission  for  the  jour 
ney.  Before  I  could  leave  Genoa,  it  cost  me  three  or 
four  dollars  for  the  necessary  vises.  Though  a  servant 
can  usually  procure  the  proper  signatures,  yet  in  Rome 
I  was  compelled  to  go  several  times,  myself,  to  the  pub 
lic  department,  and  barely  escaped  being  arrested  for 
somebody  else. 

One's  passport  is  often  taken  from  him  at  the  gate 
of  a  city,  and  only  returned  when  he  is  ready  to  depart, 
as  in  Vienna.  Sometimes  it  is  sent  to  his  destination 
in  advance,  as  from  Boulogne  to  Paris.  In  Alexandria 
one  is  furnished  with  a  new  one  in  Arabic,  to  suit  the 
prejudice  of  Mahometans.  It  is  important  to  carry  it, 
in  other  instances,  about  the  person,  for  it  may  be  de 
manded  anywhere,  day  or  night,  and  the  inability  to 
produce  it  would  be  a  cause  of  detention.  Any  defect 
in  it,  is  a  source  of  trouble ;  a  fellow  passenger  was 
sent  back  for  miles,  on  that  account  to  Strasburg.  It 
is  the  occasion  of  continual  expense ;  is  taxed  by  every 
one  who  touches  it ;  and  costs  about  twenty  dollars  a 
year.  It  is,  however,  a  ticket  of  admission  to  certain 
museums,  and  remains  afterwards  a  curious  record  of 
one's  route. 

Custom  Houses  are  not  inconsistent  with  good  gov 
ernment,  but  the  practice  of  searching  private  property 
is  always  offensive.  Some  officers  merely  go  through 
the  forms  of  an  inspection,  open  the  lid  of  one's  trunk, 
and  close  it.  Some  faithfully  derange  every  parcel ; 


CUSTOM   HOUSES.  201 

unfold  the  packed  linen  ;  probe  the  empty  legs  of  boots ; 
and  open  the  leaves  of  a  journal.  One  replied  to  an 
objection  against  a  rigorous  search,  that  he  had  found 
jewelry  in  stockings  ;  that  boots  were  now  and  then 
filled  with  tobacco  ;  and  books  with  lace.  But  a  small 
coin  will  universally  induce  the  subordinates  to  assume, 
and  assert  the  contrary. 

At  Liverpool,  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  surreptitiously 
given,  stopped  the  inquisitive  hand  of  the  clerk.  A 
fine  segar  removed  the  suspicions  of  the  German  agent 
in  Austria.  While  in  Italy,  and  the  East,  bribes  were 
openly  demanded,  and  at  times  reduced  by  chaffering. 
An  odd  incident  occurred  to  myself,  and  four  others, 
who  went  from  Rome  to  Naples,  by  veturrino  car 
riage.  By  this  agreeable  arrangement,  the  proprietor 
of  the  conveyance,  for  about  $4  a  day,  for  each  per 
son,  provided  the  accommodations.  All  of  which,  the 
candles,  the  fire,  the  items  of  the  meals,  the  style  of 
lodging,  and  the  "buona  mano"  or  presents,  were 
specified  in  the  written  contract. 

We  passed  over  the  Appian  way ;  its  large  pentag 
onal  stones,  here  and  there  preserved ;  its  borders 
lined  with  brick  and  marble  ruins  of  tombs  and  arches, 
aqueducts,  and  temples.  We  passed  the  supposed  spot 
where  Coriolanus  yielded  to  his  mother's  prayer  for 
Rome  ;  where  Clodius  was  slain  by  Milo;  where  Asca- 
nius  was  buried  ; .  where  Pompey  had  a  villa ;  by  a  lake 
said  to  cover  an  extinct  volcano,  and  then  into  the  town 
of  Albano ;  and  lunched  in  the  former  palace  of  Charles 
the  fourth  of  Spain. 

Thence  by  Aricia,  where  Horace  lodged  when  he 
went  to  meet  Mecaenas,  situated  on  a  hill,  walled  and 


202  MISCELLANIES. 

dirty,  where  women  in  red  jackets  and  blue  skirts  were 
sitting  at  a  well,  or  carrying  water  on  their  heads  in 
copper  jars.  We  slept  at  Velletri,  where  Augustus 
was  born ;  whose  streets  are  steep,  and  whose  houses  of 
stone  are  like  stables,  both  in  odor  and  construction. 

Thence  through  the  Pontine  marshes ;  between  double 
rows  of  elms;  over  a  well  paved  causeway,  without 
curve,  or  hill,  or  toll  gate ;  with  meadow  and  swamp 
on  either  side ;  the  haunts  of  plovers,  snipes  and 
thrushes,  of  brigands  and  wild  boars  ;  and  dined  at  the 
Forum  Appii,  mentioned  in  Paul  and  Horace. 

Thence  by  men  in  black  pointed  felt  hats,  and 
breeches  of  rags,  or  skins ;  by  donkeys  tottering  under 
heaps  of  hay  or  wood,  near  "the  goodly  city"  of 
ancient  Antium,  where  the  Apollo  Belvidere  was  dis 
covered.  Then  near  that  promontory  where  Circe  had 
her  palace,  and  her  prison  for  the  comrades  of  Ulysses. 
Then  to  Terracina,  hanging  on  a  rock  two  hundred 
feet  high,  the  sea  roaring  at  its  base,  and  the  last  city 
of  the  Pope's. 

On  reaching  the  Neapolitan  frontiers,  as  the  spokes 
man  of  the  party,  I  was  invited  into  a  room  up  stairs. 
There  the  collector,  exhibiting  great  affability,  in 
stantly  gave  me,  to  present  at  the  next  office,  a  cer 
tificate  that  our  baggage  had  been  properly  examined 
Surprised  at  his  liberality,  I  cordially  and  innocently 
tendered  him,  after  the  Italian  fashion,  a  thousand 
thanks,  and  deferentially  bowed  out  of  his  presence 
backwards.  A  shade  of  disappointment,  however, 
seemed  to  cross  his  face. 

Seated  in  the  carriage,  I  astonished  my  companions, 
by  describing  the  graciousness  of  the  agent ;  and  while 


CUSTOM   HOUSES.  203 

we  were  all  concluding  that  his  government  was  better 
than  its  reputation,  a  soldier  came  to  the  window,  and 
claimed  pay  for  the  certificate.  We  incontinently 
laughed  outright  at  this  proof  of  our  own  blunder,  and 
his  impudence.  One  of  our  number  offered  him  a 
huge  copper  bajocco,  bearing  the  image  of  Garibaldi, 
once  worth  about  three  cents.  He  shrugged  his  should 
ers,  and  naively  declined  the  currency,  which  just  then 
represented  an  obsolete  idea.  As  we  drove  off  he 
leaped  on  the  box,  with  the  driver,  determined  to  con 
vince  us  that  his  superior  ought  to  have  been  bribed. 

At  the  next  office,  we  showed  our  clearance,  but  the 
person  in  charge  having  conversed  with  the  soldier, 
disregarded  it.  Rather  than  be  stopped,  with  five  large 
trunks,  whose  examination  might  be  maliciously  pro 
longed,  we  offered  him  five  francs.  He  refused  them 
contemptously,  and  demanded  an  exorbitant  sum.  The 
porter,  by  his  orders,  began  to  unload  the  luggage.  I 
followed  him  into  his  room,  where  several  were  seated 
around  a  basin  of  hot  coals,  and  mildly  expostulated ; 
spoke  of  our  urgent  haste ;  and  broadly  alluded  to  a 
letter,  which  I  had  to  the  Pope's  chamberlain.  Leav 
ing  the  driver  with  him,  I  returned  disappointed,  to  our 
party. 

While  they  were  indulging  in  a  little  audible  pro 
fanity,  the  officer  came  up  to  me,  hat  in  hand ;  regretted 
the  misunderstanding ;  commanded  the  trunks  to  be 
strapped  up  again  ;  saluted  us  with  a  "  good  voyage," 
and  remained  with  his  assistants,  uncovered,  till  we 
were  out  of  sight. 

This  extraordinary  turn  to  our  fortune,  was  soon 
explained  by  the  driver,  to  have  been  due  to  his  inge- 


204  MISCELLANIES. 

nious  lying.  On  his  own  motion,  taking  the  hint  from 
the  letter  spoken  of;  he  represented  that  I  was  an 
American  ambassador,  and  the  others  my  suite.  Though 
properly  vexed  at  this  deception,  it  was  gratifying  to 
know  that  the  government  had  not  been  slandered, 
and  that  its  extortioners  had  been  defeated.  This, 
however,  was  the  only  instance  of  such  luck,  which 
fell  to  my  lot ;  the  rest  of  my  experience  was  generally 
expensive  and  unpleasant. 

Yet  neither  custom  houses  nor  passports  are  as  in 
tolerable  as  the  lazaretto,  for  it  includes  the  evils  of 
both,  and  adds  to  them  personal  restraint.  As  it  is 
always  located  at  the  termination  of  a  weary  route, 
by  sea  or  land,  one  does  not  enter  it  with  much  en 
thusiasm.  The  uneasy  saddle  of  the  camel,  and  the 
restless  deck  of  a  ship,  are  preferable  to  a  prison. 

My  first  quarantine  was  performed  in  the  suburbs  of 
the  scriptural  town  of  Gaza.  The  building  was  large, 
rectangular,  with  small  cells,  whose  windows  and  doors 
faced  an  open  court  in  the  centre.  The  closing  of  the 
heavy  gates  on  us  excited  a  sense  of  oppression,  and  a 
regret  that  Samson  was  dead,  and  a  habeas  corpus 
would  not  lie  in  the  bailiwick  of  the  Philistines. 

After  an  exposure  of  five  days  to  a  Syrian  sun, 
blazing  within  the  walls,  as  in  a  tube,  and  to  those 
vermin  referred  to  in  Exodus  ;  after  panting  in  an  at 
mosphere  which  had  no  chance  of  circulation  ;  and 
lodging  in  apartments  for  which  a  grand  jury  would 
indict  a  jailer ;  feeding  on  sickly  indigenous  chickens, 
served  on  iron  dishes,  by  a  waiter  who  used  his  shirt 
sleeve  for  a  dish  cloth,  and  the  tureen  for  a  wash  basin 
— we  were  glad  to  accomplish  our  legal  purification, 


QUARANTINE.  205 

and  like  an  exhausted  congress,  to  be  allowed  to  go 
"without  day." 

Some  months  afterwards,  we  repeated,  with  some 
difference,  the  same  ordeal  at  Smyrna.  The  table  was 
unexpectedly  good,  fish  and  figs  being  conspicuous. 
The  crowd  was  so  great  that  several  were  lodged  in  one 
room.  I  was  thus  compelled,  every  night,  to  hear  a 
discussion  between  a  French  count  and  a  Socialist, 
whom  the  quarantine,  like  misery,  had  made  bedfel 
lows.  The  chattering  of  pet  monkeys  ;  the  cries  of  in 
fants  ;  the  yelping  of  curs ;  and  the  wailing  songs  of 
Orientals,  also  helped  to  disturb  one's  temper  and  re 
pose.  The  charges  imposed  were  nevertheless  uncon 
scionable  ;  but  our  release  made  us  generous,  and  we 
paid  them  without  murmurs. 

On  the  coast  of  the  pretty  island  of  Syra,  I  entered 
a  lazaretto  for  the  last  time.  The  rooms  were  large 
and  high  ;  the  wild  sea  dashed  its  waves  against  the 
walls  below,  and  famous  shores  were  in  sight  around 
us.  The  fare  was  vile;  the  meat  tough  or  tainted;  the 
bread  "dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit  after  a  long 
voyage."  The  waiter  was  old,  deaf,  decrepit  and 
blear-eyed ;  the  cook  regarded  neither  cleanliness  nor 
godliness.  To  all  our  remonstrances,  the  incorrigible 
stewart  replied  by  apologies — to  every  delinquency  by 
a  promise  of  repentance — his  politeness  increased  with 
our  indignation.  He  disarmed  the  curses  of  one,  by 
giving  him  the  appellation  of  Effendi ;  and  the  assault 
of  another,  by  saluting  him  with  the  title  of  Pasha. 
While  he  thus  saved  himself  by  "  soft  answers,"  like  a 
Christian,  we  had  to  be  hungry  and  submit. 

18 


206  MISCELLANIES. 

The  company,  various  and  social,  contrived  notwith 
standing  to  be  amused.  There,  among  others,  was  a 
Greek,  whose  rich  language  still  rings  with  historic  ac 
cents — a  German,  with  his  objective  and  subjective 
dogmas — an  East  India  Englishman,  fluent  with  bril 
liant  narrative — and  Symriote  women,  eloquent  with 
love  and  beauty.  Thus  parties — flirtations — dances — 
concerts — the  soft  airs  of  passion — the  heroic  hymns 
of  nations,  made  some  amends  for  the  hardships  of 
durance  and  diet. 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 

This  is  Constantinople  ! — here,  at  the  confluence  of 
two  seas — by  the  contiguous  shores  of  continents — with 
its  panorama  of  spires,  and  masts,  of  trees,  and  cupolas, 
and  the  Golden  Horn  ! 

Skirted  by  a  wall  of  brick  and  stone,  crumbling  like 
the  empire,  with  cannon  on  the  quays,  is  the  Seraglio. 
Its  palaces  have  marble  rooms  for  bathing,  and  long 
saloons  with  latticed  windows,  and  matted  floors.  Groves 
of  evergreen  and  sycamore  adorn  the  grounds.  Its 
Porte,  or  gate,  gave  name  to  the  government,  and  under 
its  arch,  ambassadors  formerly  waited  an  hour  beneath  an 
uplifted  axe.  The  numerous  widows  of  the  late  Sultan, 
are  imprisoned  in  one  of  the  mansions,  according  to 
custom,  for  their  lives. 

Behind  it,  is  Saint  Sophia's — once  a  church,  now  a 
mosque — which,  it  was  said,  an  angel  planned  ;  and  at 
which,  an  Emperor  toiled.  It  is  of  grand  dimensions, 
and  rich  materials ;  and  to  it,  every  quarry  seems  to 
have  contributed  stone,  and  every  temple  columns.  It 
is  furnished  with  little  else  than  mats,  and  rugs,  and 
pendant  lamps.  Its  tapering  minarets,  and  swelling 
dome  are  so  light  and  graceful,  that  they  seem  floating 
in  the  air.  Far  back,  rises  the  snowy  summit  of  Mount 
Olympus.  The  tideless  sea  of  Marmora  mingles  the 
color  of  its  waves  with  the  distant  blue  of  the  horizon. 

(207) 


208  MISCELLANIES. 

And  there  is  Tophane  with  its  quay  and  fountain ; 
Pera  with  its  Franks  and  Dragomans ;  Galata  with  the 
fire  tower,  built  by  the  Genoese. 

The  streets  are  only  winding  alleys,  offensive  and  un 
clean.  The  houses  appear  to  have  been  built  down 
wards,  their  tops  are  so  much  larger  than  their  bases. 

The  shops  will  not  admit  either  the  vendor  or  his 
customer.  Hucksters  are  numerous,  selling  cherry 
water  and  fresh  fruits.  The  carriages  are  gaudy  as 
Christmas  boxes,  without  springs,  and  the  coachman 
walks.  Jewish  women  have  tires  like  crescents  around 
their  heads,  such  perhaps,  as  the  prophet  spake  of. 
Porters  carry  saddles  on  their  backs,  and  compete  with 
the  donkeys. 

There  are  tombs  of  the  Sultans,  decorated  with  marble, 
with  pearl  and  cashmere.  The  cemeteries  occupy  more 
ground  perhaps,  than  the  city.  Some  of  them  are  places 
of  promenade  and  pastime  ;  where  jugglers  perform  their 
tricks;  bands  of  music  play;  well  dressed  people 
take  refreshments ;  and  the  constant  odor  of  death  per 
vades  the  air.  The  Hippodrome  with  its  obelisks ;  the 
Burnt  Column  ;  the  Brazen  Pillars  with  serpents'  heads ; 
two  of  the  Seven  Towers,  and  The  thousand  and  one 
columns,  under  ground,  the  resort  of  bats  and  rope- 
makers  ;  are  some  of  the  relics  of  the  ancient  City  of 
the  Emperors. 

The  existence  of  a  fire  is  made  known  by  a  light  on 
the  tower,  and  by  the  discharge  of  guns.  The  firemen 
and  water  carriers,  run  with  water  skins  and  hooks  and 
axes.  The  engine  is  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  two  men ; 
mounted  policemen,  and  the  Pasha  direct  the  operations. 
The  Dancing  Dervishes,  a  sect  of  Mahometan  monks, 


CONSTANTINOPLE.  209 

perform  their  devotions  on  Tuesdays.  An  old  man,  all 
in  green,  bows  towards  the  East.  The  others,  in  tall 
white  felt  hats,  and  white  robes,  squat  on  the  floor.  A 
slow  nasal  chant  is  commenced  by  one,  and  at  the  tap 
of  a  drum,  all  fall  flat  upon  their  faces ;  rise  instantly  to 
their  feet ;  and  march  round  a  circle,  in  measured  time. 

Soon  they  throw  aside  their  robes  ;  and  in  white 
jackets  and  sort  of  petticoats,  revolve  by  the  hour,  with 
the  regularity  of  spindles ;  while  the  oldest  passes 
through  them;  stamping  his  foot,  to  increase  their  en 
thusiasm  and  rapidity. 

The  Turkish  women  wear  thin  white  veils,  and  appear 
to  be  homely,  pale  and  freckled.  The  men  have  aban 
doned  turbans  for  Fez  caps ;  and  many  wear  the  Frank 
costume  altogether.  We  crossed  over  to  the  other  Con 
tinent,  and  climbed  the  steep  and  toilsome  heights  of 
Bulgurlu,  to  enjoy  its  enchanting  prospect.  We  wan 
dered  through  the  cemetery  of  Scutari,  with  its  ever 
greens  waving  over  the  once  turbaned  tombstones, 
and  the  costly  sepulchre  of  Mahmoud's  horse. 

Here  was  an  exhibition  of  the  Howling  Dervishes. 
Having  either  embraced  the  Sheik,  or  kissed  his  finger, 
ring  or  turban  ;  all  sat  on  the  floor  in  a  circle,  and  com 
menced  a  low  prayer.  Then  standing  up  they  began  a 
guttural  chant,  and  swayed  their  bodies  backward  and 
forward.  As  they  elevated  their  voices,  they  increased 
the  velocity  of  their  motions.  Growing  excited,  they 
redoubled  their  exertions,  until  their  concert  became  a 
frightful  howl ;  most  of  them  fell  exhausted,  trembling, 
and  foaming  at  the  mouth,  like  maniacs.  The  Sheik 
during  the  ceremony  stood  on  the  breast  of  a  child  to 
cure  its  sickness  by  a  miracle. 


210  MISCELLANIES. 

We  went  up  the  Bosphorus,  whose  name  recalls  the 
story  of  lo — on  whose  banks  the  retreating  Xenophon 
reposed — through  whose  swimming  rocks  Jason  adven 
tured  for  the  Golden  Fleece.  Its  indented  shores  in 
close,  many  placid  lakes — are  enriched  with  luxurious 
summer  palaces — with  vales  fairer  than  the  meadows  of 
Damascus — with  waters  sweeter  than  the  wells  of  Para 
dise — with  viljages  shaded  by  the  pendant  branches  of 
fig  and  mulberry — with  monuments  to  heroes — with 
fallen  altars  to  the  gods. 

Such  are  some  of  the  attractions  and  features  of  the 
Sultan's  city.  Nature  has  not  formed,  nor  man  select 
ed,  a  grander  site.  It  seems  fitted  for  the  capital  of 
universal  empire.  No  wonder  that  it  has  been  so  long 
a  tempting  prize — that  it  has  been  the  battle  ground  of 
races  and  religions — that  it  is  still  the  paramount  object 
of  international  jealousy  and  ambition. 


THE  SULTAN,  ABDUL  MEDJID. 

Crossing  the  bridge  of  boats,  which  join  Galata 
and  iStamboul,  I  was  startled  by  the  sudden  thunder  of 
artillery,  announcing  the  Sultan  with  a  fleet  of  steam 
ers,  returning  from  a  tour.  As  he  came  up  the  Bos- 
phorus,  the  sea  and  city  trembled  with  the  boisterous 
welcome  of  a  thousand  cannons.  The  flags  were 
flaunted  from  the  masts,  and  towers.  The  quays 
were  crowded  with  the  people.  The  shopmen  forsook 
their  stalls.  The  beggars  left  their  haunts.  The  crip 
ples  forgot  their  lameness.  The  women,  in  their  curi 
osity,  pushed  aside  their  veils. 

When  night  came — the  illuminated  windows ;  the  fire 
works  blazing  amongst  the  cypress  trees ;  the  lamps 
shining  along  the  ropes  and  port  holes  of  the  vessels  ; 
and  the  sounds  of  pleasant  music,  prolonged  the  joy 
and  lustre  of  the  day.  While  this  reception  showed 
the  popularity  of  Abdul  Medjid,  scarcely  any  one  ob 
tained  a  glimpse  of  his  person. 

On  the  next  Friday,  the  Moslem  sabbath,  I  engaged 
a  caique ;  one  of  those  delicate  boats,  light  as  shells, 
which,  sharp  at  both  ends,  skim  the  water  like  a  sea 
bird.  Seated  carefully  on  the  bottom,  to  preserve  its 
balance,  with  the  oarsman  dressed  in  white  trowsers 
and  embroidered  shirt,  we  hovered  about  the  mouth  of 
the  Golden  Horn,  to  see  what  mosque  the  Sultan  would 

(211) 


212  MISCELLANIES. 

that  day  visit.  It  was  in  the  warm  month  of  June, 
and  the  scene  was  such  as  no  other  spot  can  display. 

At  last  the  signal  gun  was  fired,  as  the  Sultan  left 
the  pier  of  his  Asiatic  palace.  He  was  attended  by  four 
large  caiques,  one  in  advance,  and  two  others  in  the 
rear  of  the  one  he  occupied.  Seen  in  the  distance,  the 
long  procession — moving  in  a  line — swift  as  an  arrow — 
glistening  in  the  sun — seemed  like  a  train  of  light  upon 
the  wave. 

The  drawn  bridge  was  covered  with  the  bayonets  of 
soldiers  as  he  entered  the  Golden  Horn.  In  the  most 
magnificent  of  the  barges  ;  which  appeared  to  be  a 
combination  of  a  gondola  and  a  canoe ;  with  painted 
sides  and  gilded  -prow ;  manned  by  twenty-six  seamen, 
whose  burnished  oars  kept  a  measured  beat  upon  the 
waters ;  sheltered  by  a  canopy  of  silk  on  golden  pil 
lars  ;  seated  on  a  cashmere  cushion ;  with  his  ofiicers 
at  his  feet,  and  their  faces  towards  him — sat  the  Mon 
arch  of  the  East. 

He  passed  on,  leaving  behind  the  flapping  sails,  the 
curling  smoke  of  steamers,  the  shoals  of  small  caiques, 
gliding  like  playthings  on  the  current.  Amidst  the 
roar  of  guns  from  towers  and  navy  ;  the  flashing  of 
flags ;  and  the  loud  swell  of  martial  music,  he  landed 
at  Eyoub — opposite  which  his  predecessor  launched  the 
ships  that  won  the  city. 

He  walked  for  some  distance  on  a  carpet,  spread  out 
for  him  ;  through  a  passage  lined  with  veiled  women, 
and  wide  trowsered  men.  He  then  mounted  a  white 
horse,  richly,  but  not  gaudily  caparisoned,  and  rode 
slowly  to  the  sacred  mosque,  in  which  the  sovereigns 
are  inaugurated  with  the  sword. 


ABDUL   MEDJID.  213 

The  crowd  treated  him  with  becoming  respect.  There 
was  no  marked  sentiment  of  awe.  They  gave  a  peculiar 
salute  with  their  hands.  But  they  made  neither  genu 
flexions  nor  prostrations.  They  did  not  manifest  any 
enthusiasm.  The  men  gave  no  cheers — the  women 
waved  no  handkerchiefs.  Not  a  murmur  of  approba 
tion  was  heard.  But  they  regarded  him  with  some 
pride.  They  showed  uneasiness  at  the  presence  of 
foreigners,  and  expressed  indignation  when  they  ap 
proached  near  his  person. 

He  was  a  young  man,  of  the  ordinary  height,  and  of 
a  slender  figure.  He  wore  a  Fez  cap,  a  red  woolen 
cylindrical  article  without  a  rim,  adorned  with  a  jewel 
ed  tassel  on  the  crown.  He  had  on  a  dark  frock  coat, 
fastened  with  cords  of  braid,  and  white  pantaloons. 
His  mouth  was  concealed  by  a  moustache.  His  face 
was  brown  and  pensive.  You  could  read  there  no 
trace  of  great  emotions ;  no  ambitious  dreams ;  no  con 
sciousness  of  power ;  no  fear  of  responsibility.  It 
seemed  impressed  with  the  fatuity  of  his  religion ;  with 
the  gravity  of  his  race ;  and  with  the  mildness  of  his 
life. 

One  could  hardly  realize  that  he  had  a  hundred  wives ; 
that  he  reigned  over  the  fairest  region  of  the  world ; 
over  the  eastern  half  of  the  Roman  possessions,  from 
the  cataracts  of  the  Nile  to  the  shores  of  the  Euxine, 
and  from  the  Bosphorus  to  the  Adriatic.  That  he 
would  risk  a  war,  perhaps  a  throne,  in  order  to  dis 
charge  the  duties  of  hospitality  to  Kossuth.  That  his 
army  would  win  battles  in  a  conflict  with  Russia.  That 
he  himself  was  described  as  the  shadow  of  God. 


214  MISCELLANIES. 

He  seemed  more  like  the  sick  man  of  the  Emperor 
Nicholas.  With  a  debilitated  frame,  and  a  hopeless 
constitution,  he  was  a  type  of  his  declining  empire. 
His  subjects  are  enervated  by  idleness,  tobacco  and 
polygamy.  They  are  said  to  be  honest,  but  not  so 
conscientious,  as  formerly,  against  wine  and  usury. 
There  is  one  newspaper  devoted,  they  say,  to  anecdotes 
about  the  sagacity  of  animals.  The  schools  produce 
few  scholars.  The  courts  may  be  said  to  be  without 
juries,  and  without  advocates.  Commerce  is  in  the 
hands  of  strangers.  Religion  promises  a  sensual  para 
dise.  Women  are  uneducated.  Soldiers  are  influenced 
by  fatalism,  as  likely  to  inspire  cowardice  as  courage. 

The  Sultan  has,  therefore,  no  intrinsic  resources  for 
the  continuance  of  his  power.  He  relies  for  political 
existence,  not  on  his  navy,  which  Americans  built ;  nor 
on  his  army,  which  Frenchmen  disciplined;  but  on 
foreign  troops.  He  expects  actual  aid,  when  neces 
sary,  from  those  nations  who  filled  the  ranks  of  the 
Crusaders.  The  successor  of  Saladin  is  sustained  by 
the  successors  of  the  lion-hearted  Richard  and  Philip 
Augustus ;  and  the  Crescent  floats  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Cross. 


ATHENS. 

Sunset  was  flinging  gay  colors  over  the  heights  of 
Paros,  whence  were  obtained  the  blocks  of  the  "Medi- 
cean Venus,"  and  the  "Dying  Gladiator,"  as  we  left  the 
pleasant  island  of  Syra,  The  next  morning  we  reached 
Athens, 

"A  place  we  longed  to  see,  nor  cared  to  leave." 

The  city  has  a  picturesque  situation,  amongst  historic 
seas,  isles  and  mountains.  Battles,  earthquakes,  and 
two  thousand  years  have  marred  her  monuments,  and 
quenched  her  altars,  But  her  rivulets,  plains  and  ruins 
have  peculiar  charms.  The  halo  of  ancient  days  still 
sheds  a  beauty  on  the  scene.  One  may  fancy  the 
shades  of  the  past  still  lingering  near — that  he  hears 
eloquence  murmuring  in  the  winds  ;  reads  poetry  writ 
ten  on  the  leaves ;  sees  art  mirrored  in  the  waters  ;  and 
valor  springing  from  the  ground.  Every  thing  has 
such  classic  features  ;  nature  wears  such  a  heroic  aspect, 
that  you  cannot  deem  this  a  common  soil,  nor  the  mo 
ther  of  common  men.  It  is  marked  by  the  footsteps 
of  great  souls ;  and  every  sense  proclaims  it  a  land  of 
glory. 

Look  all  around — scarcely  any  other  prospect  is  so 
full  of  interest.  Every  view  is  associated  with  some 

famous  incident,  or  some  grand  idea — with  some  achieve- 

(215) 


216  MISCELLANIES. 

ment  of  the  hand,  or  intellect,  which  has  influenced 
society  for  centuries. 

Standing  on  the  top  of  Pentelicus,  whose  quarries  are 
yet  open,  which  furnished  the  marble  of  the  ancient 
structures — you  may  see  on  one  side,  the  crescent  shore 
and  green  plain,  with  its  tumulus  of  soldiers ;  and  on  the 
other ,  the  distant  bay  with  its  rock  bound  walls ;  re 
calling  the  victories  of  Miltiades  and  Themistocles,  and 
the  immortal  names  of  Salamis  and  Marathon.  Climb 
ing  the  Acropolis,  greatly  elevated  above  the  sea,  and 
insulated  from  the  other  heights,  the  scene  of  the  fabled 
spring  of  Neptune  and  olive  of  Minerva  ;  and  you  are 
before  the  Parthenon. 

It  was  the  temple  of  the  Citadel ;  associating  an  erro 
neous  faith  with  public  security,  it  was  a  splendid 
expression  of  the  national  taste  and  superstition.  It  is 
in  ruins  ;  its  cella  shattered ;  many  columns  prostrate  ; 
the  ivory  image  of  the  Goddess  gone ;  the  elaborate 
frieze  of  Phidias  disfigured  and  despoiled ;  yet  it  is 
always  the  world's  great  model  of  architectural  beauty 
and  proportion. 

Near  by  is  the  Pnyx,  now  as  of  old,  an  open  hill  side, 
with  the  Bema,  the  pulpit  rock  of  eloquence,  shaped  like 
an  altar,  facing  the  mountains.  It  was  there,  the  ora 
tors  roused  and  ruled  the  murmuring  masses ;  and  shook 
the  distant  thrones.  Yonder  flows  the  Cephissus,  now 
driving  a  mill  wheel ;  now  irrigating  a  garden ;  now 
wandering  through  the  olive  groves  of  Academus,  once 
animated  by  the  discourses  and  the  school  of  Plato. 

There,  is  the  Doric  fane  and  tomb  of  Theseus,  beau 
tifully  preserved ;  a  memorial  of  posthumous  gratitude 
over  the  ashes  of  the  hero ;  while  around  its  portico  the 


ATHENS.  217 

Peripatetics  listened  to  the  teachings  of  the  Stagirite. 
There,  in  the  solid  rock,  is  the  prison  cave  of  Socrates, 
reminding  us  of  his  life — almost  Christian  in  its  vir 
tues — and  of  his  death,  which  excited  the  repentance  of 
his  judges,  and  drew  retribution  on  his  foes. 

On  the  left  is  the  Stadium,  of  immense  capacity, 
scooped  out  like  a  valley  or  the  basin  of  a  lake,  from 
whose  inclining  sides,  now  overgrown  with  grass,  the 
populace  witnessed  the  contest  of  the  races.  There, 
two  columns  remain  of  the  theatre  of  Bacchus,  once 
trod  by  buskined  actors  in  the  tragedies  of  Euripides ; 
and  resonant  with  the  shouts  of  the  multitude,  when 
Demosthenes  was  crowned  with  gold. 

And  there,  most  memorable  of  all,  with  solid  stairs 
and  stools  of  stone,  is  the  hill  of  Mars.  It  was  the  seat 
of  that  renowned  tribunal,  which  met  at  night  to  insure 
justice,  against  fear  and  favor.  It  was  there,  before 
Areopagites,  Stoics  and  Epicureans — before  the  news- 
seeking  citizens  and  strangers — and  the  magnificent 
display  of  idolatrous  altars — some  mocked,  and  some 
believed,  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  when  he  stood  in 
their  midst ;  setting  forth  a  strange  doctrine  of  resur 
rection  and  judgment ;  a  new  religion  of  faith  and  re 
pentance  ;  and  the  Unknown  God,  who  dwelleth  not  in 
temples  made  with  hands. 

There,  scantily  supplied  by  the  fountain  of  Callirhoe, 
trickles  the  almost  waterless  Ilissus,  on  whose  banks 
the  Lyceum  flourished.  Beyond,  rises  the  ridge  of 
Mount  Hymettus,  now  bright  and  fragrant  with  the 
blossoms  of  wild  thyme ;  and  swarming,  as  ever,  with 
myriads  of  honey  bees.  On  a  vast  artificial  platform, 
tower  the  colossal  relics  of  Jupiter's  Corinthian  temple. 

19 


218  MISCELLANIES, 

It  was  begun  under  a  domestic  tyrant ;  finished  by  a 
foreign  conqueror  ;  and  the  progress  of  its  construc 
tion  kept  pace  with  all  the  eras  of  democratic  rule. 

These  are  some  of  the  wrecks  and  localities  of  this 
early,  brilliant  republic.  She  declined,  and  with  her 
gods  and  heroes  passed  away.  Spoiled  by  success ; 
betrayed  by  corruption — she  sowed  the  seeds  of  her 
dissolution,  by  ingratitude  to  her  best  citizens.  She 
appreciated  their  worth,  when  it  was  too  late,  when 
they  were  in  exile,  and  in  the  grave ;  and  like  another 
nation,  the  sons  garnished  the  tombs  of  those,  whom 
the  fathers  stoned. 

Turning  from  these  reminiscences,  you  may,  in  the 
moonlight  evenings,  on  the  public  walks,  mingle  with 
the  modern  Greeks.  They  wear  gilded  jackets,  white 
kilts,  and  crimson  caps.  They  have  brilliant  eyes ; 
flowing  hair ;  a  most  musical  language  ;  figures  and 
faces  like  ancient  models ;  a  fondness  for  liberty  and 
novelty;  and  a  natural  quickness  of  intellect.  They 
have  little  business  enterprise  ;  some  men  of  learning  ; 
a  respectable  bar  ;  an  ignorant  clergy  ;  and  a  reputa 
tion  for  veracity,  unfortunate,  if  only  half  deserved. 

Their  monarchy  of  constitutional  limitations  recognises 
universal  suffrage,  and  virtually  destroys  it,  by  official 
interference  at  the  polls.  Their  revenue  hardly  pays 
the  labor,  or  the  avarice  of  those  employed  in  its  col 
lection.  The  interest  of  their  public  debt  is  discharged 
by  those  who  guarantied  the  loan.  Their  navy  of  one 
ship,  and  army  of  ten  thousand  men,  are  more  for  the 
security  of  the  rulers  than  the  people. 

Their  King  is  an  alien  by  birth  ;  dresses  in  the  na 
tive  costume  ;  speaks  imperfectly  the  language  ;  amia- 


ATHENS.  219 

ble  and  diligent,  but  incapable ;  and  surrounded  and 
controlled  by  mercenary  parasites,  and  foreign  agents. 
The  royal  palace,  which  vies  with  the  richest  in  Europe, 
was  buHt  on  the  ground  of  an  Englishman,  who  was 
Paid  through  the  intervention  of  the  British  fleet. 
Such  is  Athens,  poor  without  paupers,  independent 
without  power ;  but  her  history,  and  her  monuments 
will  make  her  a  place  of  pilgrimage  for  ever. 


LETTERS  OF  CREDIT. 

Travelers  usually  carry  a  special  letter  of  credit  to 
some  particular  house  ;  or  a  general  one,  in  printed 
form,  addressed  to  the  bankers  of  various  cities,  who 
endorse  on  it  the  sums  they  respectively  pay.  And 
although  one  loses  something  by  commissions  on  these 
payments,  he  avoids  the  trouble  of  transporting  coin  ; 
and  is  able  to  draw  the  amount  he  requires,  in  the  cur 
rency  of  the  place  in  which  he  stops. 

With  a  letter  of  the  former  description  in  my  pocket, 
I  boarded  a  steamboat,  bound  on  an  excursion  around 
the  pleasant  Isle  of  Wight,  whose  circumference  is 
some  sixty  miles.  It  was  a  summer  day ;  but  the 
wanton  wind  leaping  from  the  sea,  and  the  fresh  spray 
spreading  rainbows  above  us,  made  the  atmosphere  de 
lightful.  The  music  of  adventitious  harps  and  organs, 
and  the  shifting  panorama  of  the  shore,  excited  and 
amused  the  crowded  decks.  The  insular  circuit  was 
soon  made — the  castles ;  the  towns  ;  the  deep  caverns  ; 
the  tall  chalky  cliffs,  called  the  Needles,  rising  from 
the  sea  like  the  spars  of  an  iceberg;  the  river  and  the 
streams ;  the  distant  Osborne  palace ;  the  white  sand 
banks,  used  in  making  glass  ;  the  arable  acres  mantling 
with  their  harvest  grain,  or  animated  with  the  pasturing 
flocks  ;  were  at  length  all  passed,  and  we  landed  where 
we  started,  and  dispersed. 

(220) 


LETTERS    OP   CREDIT.  221 

Sauntering  from  the  wharf,  I  missed  my  letter  as  I 
entered  the  hotel.  It  was  a  quiet  tavern,  peculiarly 
English ;  such  as  Shenstone  lauded  for  its  welcome — 
promising  clean  linen  and  roast  beef;  with  a  tidy  young 
woman  to  make  out  the  bills ;  and  a  head  waiter  for 
host,  whose  apparel,  of  white  and  black,  was  a  cross 
between  a  cook's  and  a  parson's.  They  showed  a 
proper  concern  for  the  loss  of  the  letter,  and  suggested 
a  reward  for  it.  That  evening,  the  ancient  streets  of 
Ryde  were  disturbed  by  the  clatter  of  the  bellman, 
who,  with  all  the  zeal  of  Dr.  Syntax,  in  pursuit  of 
the  picturesque  ;  or  of  Diognes,  with  a  lantern,  seeking 
an  honest  man,  endeavored  to  discover  the  thief,  or 
finder,  by  an  offer  of  compensation.  But  nothing 

"  Was  found 
By  the  crier  in  his  round 
Through  the  town." 

Although  the  letter  could  not  have  been  used  without 
forgery,  I  concluded  to  prevent  any  chance  of  its  pay 
ment.  I  took  the  first  conveyance  to  Portsmouth,  and 
in  an  express  train,  through  Brighton,  sped  like  a  missile 
to  Folkestone.  Thence  over  the  channel,  rough  enough 
to  disgust  all  landsmen,  to  Boulogne;  famous  for  that 
failure  of  Napoleon,  which  history  proves  was  the 
shadow  of  success.  Urged  through  the  vociferous  mob, 
of  blouses  and  moustaches;  my  passport  and  baggage, 
sent  for  examination  to  the  offices  ;  two  meals  "rounded 
with  a  sleep;"  then  seated  in  one  of  the  cars,  which, 
like  the  English,  are  divided  in  compartments,  suffici 
ent  to  contain  eight  or  ten  persons ;  we  were  borne 
swiftly  to  the  gay  capital  of  France, 


222  MISCELLANIES. 

The  vast  depot  was  furnished  with  counters  and 
clerks,  who,  presuming  every  one  to  be  a  huckster, 
searched  the  trunks  for  produce,  subject  to  market 
duty.  My  inventory  having  satisfied  the  official,  I 
inquired  of  him  how  I  could  immediately  find  Mr.  G. 
With  many  graceful  gesticulations  and  apologies,  he 
regretted  his  inability  to  answer.  Perplexed,  like  the 
Oriental,  who  was  bound  in  a  limited  time,  to  find  a 
stranger  in  Bagdad,  I  was  about  yielding  to  defeat ; 
when  the  railroad  superintendent  directed  me  to  the 
establishment.  I  was  there  relieved  of  further  anxiety. 

I  never  heard  of  the  missing  note.  Some  repentant 
rascal,  perhaps,  may  reveal  its  story  on  his  death  bed. 
It  may  have  drifted  down  amongst  the  subterranean 
currents,  and  torn,  worn,  in  fragments,  or  in  powder, 
made  the  circuit  of  the  seas.  It  may  have  gone  into 
the  everlasting  limbo  of  lost  things,  with  the  lost  arts, 
the  lost  books,  and  the  lost  tribes.  Six  months  after 
wards,  however,  calling,  by  chance,  at  the  post-office 
in  Rome,  I  unexpectedly  received  one  in  lieu  of  it. 

The  fate  of  a  similar  letter  occasioned  a  serious  dis 
advantage.  On  going  to  Egypt  I  informed  the  banker 
that  my  address  after  certain  named  dates,  would  be 
respectively  at  Cairo,  Beyrout,  Smyrna,  Constanti 
nople,  &c.  With  this  understanding,  I  was  disappoint 
ed  on  my  return  down  the  Nile,  in  not  receiving  a  re 
mittance  at  Cairo.  I  wrote  about  it  to  various  places 
in  vain.  The  dust,  the  fleas,  the  flies,  the  heat,  the  ap 
proaching  summer,  made  that  city  less  attractive  every 
day.  After  a  long  delay,  I  met,  accidently,  an  Ameri 
can  acquaintance,  who  supplied  me  with  a  sum  which 
would  be  temporarily  sufficient,  if  I  could  get  cashed 


LETTERS    OF   CREDIT.  223 

the  order  I  obtained  in  Rome.  The  German  banker 
repeatedly  evaded  my  application  ;  but  fearing  that  it 
would  be  soon  unsafe  to  cross  the  desert,  I  enlisted  the 
interest  of  the  Vice-Consul,  Mr.  Kahili.  Our  united 
courtesies  at  last  subdued  his  brusqueness  and  com 
punctions. 

Eight  weeks  afterwards,  while  moving  along,  poor  in 
purse  and  spirit,  I  saw  with  delight  the  fig  trees  and 
oleanders  of  Beyrout.  Before  shaking  off  the  dust  of 
travel,  I  inquired  at  the  banker's,  only  to  be  told  that 
he  had  nothing  for  me.  Our  Consul,  Mr.  J.  Chasseaud, 
however,  on  reading  an  introductory  note  from  Mr. 
Cass,  Jr.,  obliged  me  with  the  required  money. 

I  reached  Smyrna,  supposed  to  have  been  built  by 
Tantalus ;  and  where  my  disappointment  recalled  his 
punishment.  When  the  minarets  of  the  Eastern  capital 
hove  in  view,  it  seemed  impossible  that  I  could  be 
longer  embarrassed.  Yet  here  I  learned  that  such -a 
letter  had  been  sent  to  Smyrna ;  that  the  steamer  was 
injured ;  and  her  mail,  by  some  error,  had  been  for 
warded  to  Beyrout. 

A  month  in  Constantinople  exhausted  my  curiosity 
and  resources.  With  a  cordial  introduction,  under  a 
printed  heading,  and  stamped  with  the  official  seal  from 
a  public  functionary,  to  a  member  of  our  Embassy,  who 
was  then  in  the  United  States;  I  expended  my  last  guinea 
in  a  journey  up  the  Bosphorus  to  visit  his  substitute. 
He  received  me  well ;  perused  the  letter  with  satisfac 
tion,  and  invited  me  to  dine  with  him.  But  as  he 
replied  to  my  financial  narrative,  by  scratching  his 
organ  of  cautiousness  ;  and  an  abrupt  reference  to  Eastern 
antiquities,  I  declined  with  forced  politeness  to  eat  his 


224  MISCELLANIES. 

salt.     That  night  the  countless  dogs  of  the  city  seemed 
to  be  barking  at  my  misfortunes. 

But  in  the  morning  a  Scotch  traveling  acquaintance, 
to  whom  I  related  my  diplomatic  experience,  voluntarily 
replenished  my  exchequer.  Having  repaid  the  Consul 
by  a  draft ;  and  arrived  at  Athens  ;  instead  of  money,  I 
received  notice  that  funds  would  be  sent  to  Venice. 
This  was  a  fair  prospect,  but  of  no  immediate  im 
portance  to  hotel  keepers,  and  steamboat  captains. 
The  Caledonian  again  opened  his  purse. 

Venice,  I  do  remember ;  not  only  for  its  beauty  and 
uniqueness,  but  also,  because  there,  after  a  fortnight's 
patience,  came  the  long  desired  heavy  envelope.  No 
commission  was  ever  more  grateful  to  the  weary  office 
hunter  ;  no  bauble  was  ever  dearer  to  longing  child  ;  nor 
love  missive  to  pining  maid,  than  that  small  parcel  was 
to  me.  I  returned  to  the  good  Scotchman,  just  as  he 
was  leaving  the  city,  his  loan,  which  only  that  morning 
he  offered  to  increase.  This  letter  explained  the  mystery 
about  the  other.  The  first  had  been  mailed  in  England, 
but  the  postage  not  having  been  prepaid,  it  lay  a  week 
or  more  in  the  office.  It  was  then  sent  to  Constantinople, 
and  reached  there  before  I  did,  and  thence  as  already 
stated. 

One  year  from  its  date,  while  in  the  University  of 
Berlin,  the  lost  letter  came,  defaced  with  many  inscrip 
tions  and  printed  marks,  and  taxed  five  dollars  for 
postage.  During  the  same  year,  on  the  Alameda  of 
Seville,  "famous  for  oranges  and  women,"  I  was  plea 
santly  surprised  to  meet  the  generous  Scot.  Again, 
after  an  interval  of  a  few  months,  when  in  Paris  I 


LETTERS   OF   CREDIT.  225 

gladly  reciprocated  his  favors,  when  he  was  also  disap 
pointed  in  a  remittance.  Such  annoyances  as  these  had 
their  compensation;  for  they  protracled  a  sojourn  in 
places  of  interest ;  elicited  the  confidence  of  strangers  ; 
and  gave  rise  to  lasting  attachments. 


"Florence!   beneath  the  sun, 
Of  cities,  fairest  one." — Shelley. 

As  the  stranger  enters  a  cafe,  in  Florence,  a  pretty 
girl,  in  a  large  leghorn  hat,  will  probably  give  him  a 
boquet.  This,  however,  is  only  an  appeal  to  his  silver, 
through  the  medium  of  a  sentiment.  He  is  expected 
to  pay  for  the  courtesy. 

Yet  the  place  is  attractive  to  both  the  economical 
and  the  curious.  Wine  and  books,  galleries  and  land 
scapes,  fleas,  garlic,  and  fine  weather,  are  abundant. 
Invalids,  artists,  authors,  and  people  fond  of  mediaeval 
associations,  make  it  their  residence.  No  tourist  wiH 
neglect  to  visit  this  beautiful  city  of  St.  John. 

If  public  celebrations  please  him — he  may,  perhaps, 
witness  the  races  of  Roman  chariots ;  or  youth,  with 
paper  lanterns,  rejoicing  around  the  festooned  altars ; 
or  the  imposing  procession  of  robed  dignitaries,  follow 
ing  a  golden  Christ  beneath  a  pall,  while  the  bells  toll, 
and  the  monks  chant  for  "the  dead  of  all  time." 

If  he  is  familiar  with  the  genesis  of  curves — he  may 
study  the  structure  of  one  of  the  bridges,  whose  use 
was  prohibited,  while  the  nature  of  its  arches  was  dis 
cussed. 

If  he  would  see  paintings — there  is  the  ideal  beauty 
of  the  Virgin,  which  Raphael's  pencil  has  incarnadin 
ed. 

(226) 


FLORENCE.  227 

If  he  would  see  sculpture — there  are  the  "intoxi 
cating  charms"  of  the  unveiled  Venus;  and  "the 
thought  of  Michael  Angelo"  in  the  marble  face  of  the 
sitting  Lorenzo. 

If  he  would  see  groups  in  bronze — there  are  the 
gorgeous  gates  in  the  Baptistery,  which  admirers  have 
deemed  worthy  of  Paradise. 

If  he  would  see  precious  stones — he  may  enter  cabi 
nets,  sparkling  with  the  water  of  a  mine  of  gems ;  or 
that  unrivaled  Medicean  chapel,  designed  to  shed  its 
lustre  on  the  Saviour's  tomb. 

If  he  would  see  architecture — let  him  trace  the  deli 
cate  lines  of  Brunelleschi's  dome,  as  they  swell  upward 
in  elegant  harmony  with  the  great  vault  above  them. 

If  he  would  see  libraries-^there  are  halls  teeming 
with  manuscripts  and  volumes,  oriental,  and  classic. 

If  he  would  enjoy  gardens — he  may  saunter  by  grot 
tos  and  by  statues,  along  arched  and  open  alleys, 
brilliant  and  fragrant  with  unnumbered  plants. 

If  he  would  have  prospects — he  may  gaze  from  the 
Cyclopean  walls  of  the  ancient  Fiesole,  on  a  scene 
which  once  charmed  the  unclouded  sight  of  Milton. 

If  he  would  go  where  they  have  laid  their  historic 
dead — he  will  find  the  genius  of  all  the  arts  doing 
homage  at  their  shrines. 

If  he  would  know  the  eventful  progress  of  the  city — 
he  may  read  on  her  pavements,  in  the  aisles  of  her 
palaces  and  churches,  how  she  caught  up  the  torch  of 
knowledge  from  the  sepulchre  of  nations  ;  and  echoed 
the  eloquence  of  democracy  in  her  piazza,  when  the 
Pnyx  was  no  longer  known  at  Athens,  and  the  Comitia 
had  disappeared  from  Rome. 


228  MISCELLANIES. 

Long  she  flourished  in  opulence  and  influence.  Her 
armies,  her  bards,  her  artists,  her  statesmen,  and  her 
merchants  filled  all  countries  with  her  fame. 

She  became  enervated.  She  yielded  to  the  silver 
yoke  of  splendid  tyrants.  She  was  a  slave. 

There  she  stood  for  centuries ;  leaning  on  her  orna 
ments  ;  her  delicious  hands  in  fetters ;  her  melodious 
lips  sealed ;  her  radiant  eyes  turned  sadly  toward  the 
past ;  fixed,  silent,  and  cold,  like  the  marble  Greek  of 
Powers.  But  still  beautiful! — still  exquisite  in  her 
pensive  trance ! — waiting  for  the  spark  of  freedom  to 
quicken  her  spirit,  and  kindle  her  graces  to  their  appro 
priate  splendor. 


AGRICULTURAL  ADDRESS— 1855. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  discourse  to  give  lessons 
in  farming.  Such  matters  as  require  study  and  experi 
ence  I  was  not  asked  to  discuss,  and  do  not  presume  to 
teach. 

"  Non  tarn  procul  absim  ab  Urbe." 

My  humbler  task  is  but  to  diversify  the  entertainment 
of  the  hour,  and  give  some,  though  inadequate  expres 
sion  to  thoughts  which  the  occasion  universally  inspires. 
An  appropriate  topic  is  this  exhibition  of  earth's  bounty, 
and  man's  enterprise,  suggesting  whatever  is  pleasant 
in  the  annals  of  industry,  the  marvels  of  nature,  or  the 
promises  of  time. 

What  assurances  of  plenty,  what  pledges  of  progress, 
does  this  promiscuous  scene  afford!  Its  success  mani 
fests  the  public  partiality  towards  a  most  important  in 
terest.  It  is  a  wise  policy  which  periodically  concen 
trates  in  one  place  all  that  is  beautiful,  and  strong,  and 
wholesome  ;  which  covers  the  ground  with  contributions 
and  spectators ;  with  fair  ladies,  fast  horses,  fat  oxen, 
tall  corn,  stout  men,  shanghai  chickens,  and  monstrous 
melons ;  with  huge  machines,  which  cut  ten  acres  of 
grass  in  a  day,  and  thresh  eight  bushels  of  wheat  in  an 
hour ;  with  churns,  which  always  bring  the  butter ; 
rakes  which  revolve,  instead  of  breaking  ;  drills  which 

(229)  20 


230  MISCELLANIES. 

sow  better  than  the  hand ;  ploughs  which  do  not  choke, 
and  run  almost  alone  in  the  furrow ;  harrows  which 
crush  the  clods  like  millstones,  and  substances  which 
make  the  barren  places  smile. 

Thus,  to  bring  together  the  best  varieties  of  every 
department,  and  have  their  qualities^-their  culture,  and 
all  their  appliances  examined  and  explained  ;  to  have 
their  defects  exposed,  and  their  merits  tried;  to  have 
the  criticism  and  judgment  of  the  crowd  upon  them,  is 
surely  a  wholesale  method  of  imparting  and  obtaining 
information. 

Innumerable  examples  also  prove  that  such  public 
displays  promote  no  less  their  immediate  object,  than 
the  harmony  and  instruction  of  the  people. 

Other  exhibitions,  aided  by  the  swell  of  music  and 
glare  of  tinsel,  have  allured  men  to  grosser  scenes — in 
which  wrestlers  strove  ;  or  boxers  parried  ;  or  gladia 
tors  fought ;  or  bacchanalians  rioted  in  drunken  festi 
vals  ;  or  errant  knights  sought  in  the  perilous  shock 
of  lances  the  love  of  ladies;  or  steeds  were  gored  by 
Spanish  bulls ;  or  painted  players  shocked  by  their  con 
tortions,  or  disgusted  by  their  folly. 

But  this — unstained  by  violence  or  blood;  with  no 
act  of  shame  or  horror,  to  raise  a  blush  or  draw  a  tear 
— spreads  forth  a  spectacle  as  picturesque  as  peaceful ; 
teeming  with  the  charms  of  beauty,  intelligence  and 
taste ;  with  every  thing  which  tempts  the  appetite ; 
excites  the  gentle  emotions,  and  kindles  the  fancy. 
Where  the  banquet,  the  graces  and  the  flowers  combine. 
Where  agricultural  ambition  finds  a  proper  impulse, 
and  ingenuity  the  recompense  of  reward  ;  where  inter 
course  extends  the  sympathies,  chastens  the  manners, 


ADDRESS.  231 

improves  the  sense.  Where  observation  gathers  facts, 
and  suggests  invention ;  where  local  prejudices  are  worn 
away,  party  animosities  assuaged,  and  impositions  ex 
ploded. 

County  pride  may  gaze  here  with  complacency  on 
the  spoils  of  her  bosom  ;  and  even  patriotism  may  be 
gratified  by  a  display,  which  bears  pregnant  proof  of 
a  noble  land,  and  equal  laws.  Encourage  then,  these 
annual  shows,  which,  like  the  world's  great  Crystal  pal 
aces,  exhibit  the  triumphs  of  industry,  the  treasures  of 
the  year,  and  the  advancement  of  the  people. 

But  such  spectacles  as  this  have  the  peculiar  attrac 
tion  of  the  open  country.  We  are  away  from  the  noisy 
streets,  and  the  red  walls — 

"  Uwcribbed,  ttncabined,  «wconfined — " 

Where  no  floor  supports,  and  no  roof  shelters — amongst 
the  sources  of  what  we  celebrate — enjoying  the  sweet 
breath,  the  fair  charms,  and  the  pure  oracles  of  nature. 
Where  else  could  we  pursue  that  magnificent  theology 
which  expresses  itself  in  the  panorama  of  the  universe ; 
in  the  ever  present  miracle  of  life  and  growth,  and  dis 
solution  ;  in  the  ever  changing  kaleidoscope  of  the 
seasons ;  in  the  grand  diapason  of  earth's  ceaseless 
music. 

Here,  every  object  is  an  altar  to  faith,  and  an  inspi 
ration  to  genius.  Here,  the  pure  affections  have  their 
dearest  exercise,  and  the  superior  faculties  their  most 
exhilarating  themes.  Here,  misfortune  may  obtain  a 
refuge  ;  weariness,  repose ;  and  sorrow,  a  healing  balm  ; 
the" weeping  eye  be  cheered  with  visions;  the  broken 


232  MISCELLANIES. 

heart  with  soothing  voices.  Here,  youth  learns  the 
first  lesson  of  humility  ;  old  age  the  last  of  resignation ; 
scepticism  repudiates  the  divinity  of  chance;  passions 
subside ;  and  virtues  flourish. 

Here,  are  the  subjects  of  art  and  science — the  geolo 
gist  delves  amongst  the  strata;  the  shepherd  watches 
the  stars ;  poetry  holds  up  the  magic  mirror ;  philoso 
phy  reads  the  open  volume  ;  true  eloquence  learns  its 
rhetoric ;  painting  its  outlines  and  colors ;  music  its 
voluptuous  tones;  architecture  its  principles  of  con 
struction,  and  sculpture  its  materials  and  models. 

"  God  made  the  country,  man  made  the  town." 

The  Deity  loves  to  "  dwell  in  temples  not  built  with 
hands."  On  the  lofty  summit  of  his  footstool  he  pro 
claimed  the  written  law.  It  was  in  a  garden,  that  as 
a  friend,  He  walked  with  our  frail  parents.  And  the 
Son  in  whom  the  Father  is,  taught  most,  along  the 
waysides  of  Galilee,  on  the  coast  of  lake  Tiberias,  and 
on  the  mount  of  Olives,  the  resurrection  and  the  life  to 
come — while  the  landscape  answered  like  an  echo  the 
wisdom  of  the  teacher. 

Man  finds  an  elevating  sense  of  freedom  in  the  open 
air.  The  soul  feels  unfettered,  when  no  walls  surround 
and  no  ceiling  covers — devotions  seem  to  rise  to  the 
very  gates  of  heaven — the  thoughts  expand  as  if  the 
world  attended — the  imagination  wanders  forth,  exult 
ing  like  an  angel. 

Thus  ancient  error  often  constructed  his  idol  altars, 
and  burned  his  sacrificial  victims  on  the  hill  tops ;  and 
left  his  temples  without  roofs.  So  justice  was  admin 
istered  at  the  outer  gateway  of  eastern  palaces.  The 


ADDRESS.  233 

famous  Areopagites  sat  uncovered  on  the  hill  of  Mars. 
The  populace  heard  their  orators,  and  framed  decrees  in 
the  face  of  the  ^gean  winds.  The  Sophists  taught 
and  disputed,  as  they  strolled  through  the  groves. 
The  historian  and  the  bard  contended  for  the  laurel  on 
the  plains  of  Elis.  In  the  unsheltered  Forum  were 
once  made  the  laws  of  Rome. 

Thus  natural  scenery  is  associated  with  the  great 
drama  of  the  world,  and  the  records  of  the  race.  And 
towards  it  still,  the  human  disposition,  however  occu 
pied,  fondly  turns  for  occasional  refreshment,  or  ulti 
mate  enjoyment. 

The  citizen  oppressed  by  the  unwholesome  air  of 
sultry  streets,  hastens  to  the  rural  districts.  The 
lover,  "sighing  like  a  furnace,"  or  weeping  like  a 
shower,  haunts  the  beech  trees  to  carve  his  immedica 
ble  wounds  and  melancholy  passion.  The  parson  seeks 
the  exercise  and  recreation  of  the  farm,  to  restore  a 
frame  wasted  by  the  zeal  of  his  vigils  and  his  weary 
load  of  cares.  And  the  physician,  tired  of  arduous 
duties  and  thankless  errands  through  the  cold,  the 
darkness  and  the  tempest.  And  the  mechanic,  whose 
cunning  and  industrious  hand  has  spent  its  force  on 
works  of  usefulness  and  taste.  And  the  merchant, 
fatigued  with  the  busy  commerce  which  unites  the  na 
tions,  and  the  jarring  interests  and  perplexing  games 
and  ceaseless  noises  of  the  market.  And  the  lawyer, 
sick  of  selfish  struggles,  uncertain  issues,  and  human 
frailty  obscuring  truth  and  foiling  justice.  And  the 
sailor,  shattered  by  the  hardships  of  the  ocean,  and  the 
storms  that  howled  their  hoarse  ^ZEolian  strains  through 
the  vessel's  rigging.  And  the  statesman,  whose  single 


234  MISCELLAMES. 

genius  saves  the  welfare  of  the  state,  and  nobly  wins, 
but  never  wears  the  laurel  on  his  brows.  And  the 
soldier,  forsaking  his  sanguinary  honors ;  and  the 
magistrate,  his  dictatorial  powers,  resort  at  last  to  the 
simple  labors  of  the  plough. 

What  avocation  then,  shall  be  compared  to  his,  which 
brings  him  in  continual  communion  with  the  works  of 
nature?  Who,  through  the  day  and  through  the  year, 
goes  forth  with  the  sun ;  toils  with  its  hours,  and  slum 
bers  with  the  shadows.  Whose  senses  are  pleased  by 
such  an  endless  variety  of  beauty  ?  Whose  labor  gives 
more  salutary  vigor  to  the  frame,  or  better  feelings  to 
the  heart  ?  Whose  arm  wins  noble  trophies  in  the 
game  of  trade,  of  office,  or  of  battle  ?  Whose  soul  has 
sweeter  contemplations  in  the  visions  of  the  morning, 
or  the  dreams  of  night  ?  Whose  life  has  a  fairer  mis 
sion  than  the  subjugation  of  the  soil,  attended  with  the 
blessings  of  contentment  and  independence,  the  facili 
ties  of  knowledge,  and  the  persuasions  of  religion  ? 

An  occupation  so  attractive  is  also  the  oldest  and 
most  universal.  Before  society  was  formed,  or  king 
doms  rose,  or  tribes  assembled  ;  before  the  fisher 
angled,  or  the  hunter  trapped;  before  the  ground  was 
cursed,  it  was  farmed.  God's  first  commandment  was 
to  dress  the  garden. 

The  first  of  human  toil  was  tillage,  as  it  may  be  last. 
Coeval  with  the  race,  it  spread  and  descended  through 
all  countries  and  all  ages.  Sometimes  dormant,  but 
not  entirely  lost  even  amongst  the  savage  hordes,  it 
ever  has  been,  and  must  be  forever,  the  great  business 
of  the  world.  No  less  the  support  of  individual  life 


ADDRESS.  235 

than  social  vigor,  it  has  built  the  cities  and  organized 
the  nations. 

Then  cultivate  the  bounteous  earth  ;  make  the  fields 
glisten  with  the  whitening  harvest ;  fill  high  the  grana 
ries  with  corn — and  behold!  how  the  public  welfare 
prospers  !  Victory  follows,  like  a  slave,  the  invincible 
valor  of  your  armies.  Your  navies  sweep  resistless  over 
all  the  oceans ;  your  commerce  flaps  her  white  wings 
in  every  harbor ;  trade  fills  the  towns  with  the  music 
of  a  million  wheels  ;  your  senate  speaks  with  the  voice 
of  oracles ;  grateful  incense  smokes  upon  your  altars ; 
happiness  smiles  upon  your  hearths,  and  glory,  like  a 
halo,  covers  all  the  blessed  land. 

History  wherever  it  has  written,  tradition  wherever 
it  has  spoken,  show  what  agriculture  has  accomplished, 
and  how  it  has  been  honored.  It  has  been  the  care  of 
great  rulers,  and  the  theme  of  gifted  bards.  The  oldest 
people  of  the  East,  and  the  strongest  people  of  the 
West  made  laws  to  foster  and  protect  it.  It  is,  to-day, 
a  study  in  European  universities.  It  inspired  "  the 
works  and  days  "  of  Hesiod,  and  the  Georgics  of  Vir 
gil.  Mago,  the  general  of  commercial  Carthage,  and 
Cato,  the  censor  of  the  Romans,  wrote  of  it  in  many 
books. 

Ceres  and  Osiris  were  once  worshiped  as  its  deities. 
But  the  ancient  farmers,  in  their  erring  piety,  paid 
homage  to  a  lower  order  of  divinities.  Every  stage  of 
the  sprout,  every  grass  of  the  field,  every  leaf  in  the 
forest,  every  stream  in  the  vale,  every  sign  in  the 
Zodiac,  were  peopled  by  inferior  powers.  Not  a  bud 
bursted,  nor  a  fruit  ripened,  nor  a  grain  took  root,  nor 
a  water  drop  fell,  nor  a  sunbeam  warmed,  nor  a  color 


236  MISCELLANIES. 

gleamed,  nor  an  odor  exhaled,  nor  a  zephyr  blew,  nor 
a  particle  of  soil  was  enriched,  nor  an  animal  was  born, 
without  the  care  and  permission  of  its  peculiar  god. 
The  plantation  was  a  rural  pantheon.  Invocations 
mingled  with  the  daily  task ;  and  festivals,  with  danc 
ing  and  with  shouting,  closed  the  labors  of  the  field. 

We  have  corrected  the  theology,  but  may  not  have 
excelled  the  crops  of  those  who  farmed  the  plains  of 
Mantua ;  or  the  cattle  which  grazed  near  the  Sabine 
hills ;  or  the  flocks  of  the  Arcadian  shepherds ;  or  the 
horses  of  the  Epirian  shores. 

Thousands  of  years  ago,  they  burned  the  stubble, 
sowed,  harrowed,  destroyed  the  tares,  and  raised  their 
stock  nearly  as  we  do  now.  They  improved  the  quality 
of  grains ;  acclimated  foreign  seeds ;  accelerated  or  re 
tarded  germination  by  cropping  the  branches  or  boring 
the  bark ;  compounded  different  growths ;  knew  those 
whose  affinities  cause  them  to  fade  or  flourish  when 
near  together,  as  the  rose  becomes  sweeter  by  the 
garlic ;  dwarfed,  and  altered  the  appearance,  color  and 
produce  of  various  plants. 

But  we  have  surpassed  all  before  us,  in  lightening 
the  duties  of  the  season,  by  transferring  to  machines 
the  drudgery  of  labor;  in  discovering  new  fertilizing 
substances,  and  easy  means  for  their  transportation  ; 
and  in  scientific  knowledge  of  the  soil.  And  all  these 
advantages  have  been  realized  in  the  present  century. 

Fifty  years  ago,  these  neighboring  grounds  could 
hardly  support  their  tenants.  The  herds  were  driven 
over  distant  tracts  for  pasture ;  the  grain  fields  were 
vast,  but  poor.  But  the  introduction  of  cloverseed,  of 


ADDRESS.  237 

lime,  and  other  agents,  doubled  and  trebled  the  pro 
ductions  of  the  soil. 

Old  implements,  and  old  customs  have  been  super 
seded.  The  long  wooden  plough,  the  wooden  harrow, 
the  sickle  and  the  flail,  are  disappearing  fast.  The 
reapers  are  not  often  seen,  in  animated  contest,  gather 
ing  the  grain  in  their  bosoms.  The  sound  of  lusty 
threshers  is  rarely  noticed  beating  time  upon  the  hard 
ened  ground.  The  huskers'  jolly  party,  of  men  and 
damsels,  are  no  more  heard  singing  by  the  moonlight, 
as  they  strip  the  yellow  corn.  The  apple  paring 
matches,  and  the  quilters'  pleasant  frolics,  have  ceased 
to  cheer  the  big  old  fire  place  with  the  jovial  airs  of  the 
fiddle,  and  the  fantastic  footsteps  of  the  jig.  The  hand 
looms  have  become  almost  peculiar  to  the  prison ;  and 
the  spinning  wheel  is  seldom  whirling  its  industrious 
round.  Few  flax  pullers  ply  now  their  merry  task. 
The  water  smeller,  with  his  hazel  twig,  is  no  longer 
called  to  locate  the  draw  well.  Not  many  now  regard 
the  sign  that  sinks  or  soars,  when  they  lay  the  worm, 
or  thatch  the  hay  rick. 

Gone  are  the  days  of  the  cocked  hat,  the  buckled 
small  clothes,  the  ruffled  wristbands,  and  the  fair  topt 
boots. 

But  women,  as  odd  as  amiable,  have,  by  their 
basques,  hoops  and  high  heeled  slippers,  connected 
those  quaint  old  times  with  this  stirring  age  of  patent 
washers  and  elliptic  springs. 

But  while  fashion  is  capricious,  useful  enterprise  has 
rapidly  made  an  onward  march.  Nature  has  yielded 
revelations.  She  is  not  now  the  riddle  and  monster 
which  past  ignorance  painted  her;  not  now  inscrutable, 


238  MISCELLANIES. 

fearful,  and,  like  the  Sphinx  with  cruel  lures,  distract 
ing  all  intruders.  Science,  like  (Edipus,  has  invaded 
her  dominions  and  despoiled  her  of  mystery  and  terror. 

But  the  conquest  is  unfinished.  The  future  doubt 
less  teems  with  untold  blessings.  We  are  but  on  the 
threshold  of  that  region  of  invention,  which  shall  open 
to  us  a  new  paradise ;  renew  the  original  glories  of  the 
earth;  disclose  scenes  transcending  the  voluptuous  des 
criptions  of  the  poetic  age  of  gold,  and  as  brilliant  and 
ineffable,  as  the  holy  seers  beheld  in  their  prophetic 
trances.  Such  an  era  is  consistent  with  the  philosophy 
of  civilization,  and  the  logic  of  progress. 

But  a  long  and  diligent  probation  must  precede  its 
advent.  Education  and  morals  must  advance  hand  in 
hand.  Inquiry  and  experiment  must  find  new  combi 
nations  of  mechanical  powers,  new  chemical  affinities, 
and  new  classifications  of  natural  facts.  We  must  ex 
tend  still  further  the  range  of  the  faculties  and  the 
senses  ;  concentrate  still  more  the  conveniences  and 
attractions  of  life ;  and  give  to  each  locality,  genera 
tion,  and  individual,  the  advantages  of  all. 

The  spirit  of  improvement  which  has  accomplished 
so  much  for  other  pursuits,  must  be  directed  more  im 
mediately  to  that  which  embraces  and  sustains  them  all. 
That  we  may  supersede  still  more  muscular  labor ;  re 
lieve  still  more  the  human  hand ;  dispense  with  the  ser 
vitude  of  bond  and  free ;  apply  to  the  fields  all  the  in 
fluences  which  facilitate  intercourse,  and  the  operations 
of  the  factories  and  shops;  and  perfect  the  organization 
of  a  class  of  workers,  more  potent  and  patient,  more 
servile  and  systematic  than  men  or  brutes. 


ADDRESS.  239 

There  is  ample  room  and  opportunity  for  ingenious 
effort.  With  a  soil  of  considerable  strength  and  rich 
ness,  and  a  climate  of  average  clemency,  our  agricul 
tural  appliances  are  but  partially  developed.  Provision 
must  be  made  for  the  contingencies  of  seasons,  and  the 
vicissitudes  of  weather.  Something  is  required  to  save 
the  crops  from  prevalent  diseases.  Something  is  need 
ed  better  than  tar  about  the  roots  for  blight ;  or  fumi 
gation  with  sulphur,  or  whale  soap  wash,  or  steeping 
the  grain  in  plaster,  for  insects ;  something  better  than 
lime  water  for  mildew ;  or  subsoiling  for  the  drought ; 
or  raising  from  the  seed  to  avoid  the  rot ;  and  something 
to  counteract  the  frost. 

Machinery  is  insufficient.  Some  new  power  is  want 
ed,  less  dangerous  but  as  efficient  as  steam,  to  move  the 
mower,  the  rake,  the  spreader,  and  the  thresher  ;  to 
drive  the  plough,  the  harrow  and  the  drill  combined ; 
and  something  to  husk  the  corn. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  some  latent  principle  may 
yet  be  detected  which  will  give  an  impulse  and  direc 
tion  to  husbandry  it  never  had  before.  Which  will  take 
the  place  of  every  fertilizing  agent  known ;  obviate 
the  necessity  of  alternating  crops ;  condense  the  ele 
ments  of  growth,  and  make  the  germ  ripen  with  electric 
speed — that  the  sower  may  one  day  scatter  abroad,  and 
the  next  day  reap  the  harvest. 

Or  some  process  may  be  hereafter  employed,  which 
will  make  our  acres  yield  in  more  abundance  and  greater 
variety,  productions  of  which  we  have  no  example  or 
conception ;  fruits,  perhaps,  sweeter  than  the  peach ; 
vegetables  more  excellent  than  the  potato ;  grain  bet 
ter  than  wheat  or  corn.  Our  soil  may  yet  supply  us 


240  MISCELLANIES. 

•with  the  modified  luxuries  of  those  warmer  countries, 
which  have  the  genial  influence  of  perennial  summer  ; 
where  the  air  is  redolent  with  the  blossoms  of  olive 
orchards,  and  shimmers  with  the  Hesperian  hue  of 
orange  groves ;  where  the  cotton,  fig,  and  banana  flour 
ish. 

Advances  already  made  strip  such  speculations  of  ex 
travagance.  The  arid  desert,  and  the  impassable  marsh, 
have  been  made  to  bloom.  The  forest  and  the  prairie 
have  furnished  our  domestic  animals,  fruits  and  plants. 
Culture  might  still  further  increase  the  number  of  our 
gratifications.  The  persimmon,  the  gum,  the  service 
berry  and  the  papaw  might  enrich  the  orchard ;  flowers 
still  wild,  would  luxuriate  in  the  garden ;  trees  from 
the  woods,  planted  by  the  roadsides,  would  vastly  beau 
tify  the  country. 

Foreign  esculents  might  be  introduced  with  success. 
The  yam  of  China  for  its  pleasant  flavor  and  nutritious 
properties ;  doura  for  its  easy  management  and  various 
uses  ;  sorgho  sucre  for  its  forage ;  the  bene  plant  for 
its  medicinal  oils.  While  the  sunny  slopes  of  a  thou 
sand  of  our  hills  offer  their  swelling  bosoms  to  the 
generous  vine.  But  start  not  at  a  vision  of  the  Rosy 
God,  reeling  with  his  thyrsus  beneath  celestial  liquor, 
and  spreading  about  his  steps  the  purple  enemy  of  souls. 

It  is  a  true  testimony,  that  wherever  the  vintage 
pours  its  blushing  current — along  the  chalky  hills  of 
rich  Champagne  ;  from  the  tall  cliffs  and  ruined  castles 
of  the  fighting  bishops  of  the  Rheingau ;  from  the  old 
Moorish  mountains  of  Granada;  through  the  voluptu 
ous  Italian  vales  ;  from  the  classic  islands  of  the  Archi 
pelago,  and  the  holy  places  of  "the  morning  land," 


ADDRESS.  241 

you  will  scarcely  see  an  inebriate  from  the  use  of  wine. 
Yet  the  beverage  is  so  common  that  it  is  used  instead 
of  tea  or  coffee,  and  drank  at  every  meal ;  and  so  cheap, 
that  beggars  quaff  it  down  like  water. 

In  France  alone  there  are  one  millions  of  acres  of 
vineyards,  producing  one  thousand  million  of  gallons 
of  wine  in  a  year.  It  is  only  the  cold  northern  na 
tions,  with  whom  the  tender  grape  does  not  flourish, 
that  are  maddened  by  the  fiercer  distillations  of  the 
apple  and  the  grain.  It  is  they  who  sing  the  drinker's 
verse — 

"  For  baser  tribes  let  rivers  flow, 
"Who  know  not  rum  or  song, 
Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
But  wants  that  little  strong." 

Whether  or  not  the  introduction  of  the  wine  press 
here  would  be  judicious,  is  a  question  some  future  day 
may  settle.  And  although  in  Ohio,  the  vineyards  have 
yielded  quadruple  the  profits  from  wheat,  they  have  not 
yet  found  general  favor  with  our  husbandmen,  who 
cultivate  one  hundred  millions  of  acres,  and  whose 
annual  productions  reach  sixteen  hundred  millions  of 
dollars. 

But  on  them — whatever  the  staples  they  prefer  to 
raise  ;  attached  to  the  soil  by  interest  and  affection  ; 
supplying  the  granaries  of  the  land;  and  keeping  the 
very  gates  of  the  national  wealth — a  grave  responsi 
bility  essentially  reposes.  With  them  is  the  last  refuge 
of  civil  rights  and  social  virtue.  When  agitation  per 
vades  the  city,  and  men  impelled  by  some  pernicious 
passion,  forget  their  loyalty  to  order ;  or  when  fanati 
cism  kindles  the  fagot,  or  swings  the  gibbet ;  or  foreign 

21 


242  MISCELLANIES. 

foes,  or  domestic  treason,  or  corruption  assail  our  insti 
tutions  ;  when  there  is  danger  to  the  liberties,  the  laws, 
or  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  country,  it  is  to  the  con 
servative  force  of  the  farmers  we  must  look  for  hope 
and  succor.  Their  unbending  strength,  and  faithful 
patriotism  must  save  the  State  from  mischief ;  and  up 
hold  its  wavering  fortunes,  as  Hur  and  Aaron  sustained 
the  failing  arm  of  Moses.  Then 

"  Ye  generous  Saxons !  venerate  the  plough, 
And  o'er  your  hills  and  long  withdrawing  vales, 
Let  autnmn  spread  his  treasures  to  the  sun, 
Luxuriant  and  unbounded. 


So  with  superior  boon,  may  your  rich  soil, 
Exuberant,  nature's  better  blessings  pour, 
O'er  every  land,  the  naked  nations  clothe, 
Anl  be  the  exhaustless  granary  of  a  world." 


Venedig  liegt  nur  noch  im  Land  der  Traume, 

Und  wirft  nor  Schatten  heraus  alten  Tagen. — Platen. 

Venice  is  built  on  islands,  which  are  subdivided  by 
canals,  and  reunited  by  a  marvelous  multitude  of 
bridges.  Foot  paths  and  the  sea  touch  nearly  every 
door,  and  you  may  walk  or  sail  all  through  the  city. 

The  narrow  winding^streets  are  shaded  by  the  massy 
walls  of  houses,  and  undisturbed  by  the  noise  and  dust 
of  horse  or  carriage.  The  shops  glitter  with  Venetian 
glass  and  Oriental  trinkets.  The  open  squares  have 
draw  wells,  and  water  carriers  and  print  mongers — a 
handsome  church,  a  curious  museum,  or  a  garden  of 
plants. 

But  the  magnificent  piazza  of  St.  Mark's  concen 
trates  nearly  all  the  attractions  of  the  place.  It  is 
an  open  area  of  several  acres,  paved  with  flag  stones. 
It  is  partly  surrounded  by  a  covered  corridor,  which 
forms  a  brilliant  arcade  of  stores  and  cafes,  where  mer 
chants  congregate,  as  they  did  once  on  the  Rialto.  On 
one  side  flows  the  Grand  Canal,  in  which  large  vessels 
lie  at  anchor;  and  numerous  gondolas,  those  sable 
floating  coaches,  glide  to  and  fro,  driven  by  a  single 
oar. 

Here  is  the  Doge's  palace,  and  its  audience  hall,  and 
council  chamber,  and  library  decorated  with  statues 
and  gilded  carvings — the  Inquisitorial  Apartment — the 

(243) 


244  MISCELLANIES 

Bridge  of  Sighs  which  the  victim  passed  over  to  his 
doom — the  deep,  dark  Dungeons  of  stone  and  iron, 
lined  with  oak  and  scribbled  with  dead  men's  names — 
the  Great  Staircase  of  the  giants — the  Red  Pillars  of  the 
gibbet — and  near  by,  the  Pedestal  on  which  the  bank 
rupt  was  exposed  to  shame.  Here  are  the  trophy 
columns  from  Acre  and  Stamboul  ;  and  the  three 
Masts,  emblematic  of  the  conquered  kingdoms  of  the 
Republic. 

Here  is  that  remarkable  cathedral  of  the  patron 
Saint,  built  of  rare  materials,  with  an  imposing  array 
of  spires,  domes,  arches  and  columns.  It  displays  re 
lievos  from  Persia  and  Palestine — bronze  figures  from 
the  Archipelago — gates  from  St.  Sophia's — spiral 
shafts  of  alabaster,  which,  they  say,  once  stood  in 
Solomon's  temple.  The  facade  and  the  interior  blaze 
with  mosaics  on  a  ground  of  gold. 

Here  the  flags  fly  on  Sundays,  and  the  cannon  fires 
at  sunset ;  and  the  band  fills  the  air  with  music,  as  hun 
dreds,  few  citizens,  many  strangers,  stroll  up  and  down 
amidst  the  glare  of  gas  lights. 

But  for  long  years  the  city  has  not  flourished.  She 
had  been  the  mistress  of  the  seas.  Founded  by  exiles, 
her  position  inspired  her  with  independence  and  mari 
time  enterprise.  Many  a  famous  feat  and  battle  are 
written  in  her  annals.  She  once  ploughed  all  waves 
with  her  victorious  keels.  She  carried  her  commerce 
and  her  cannon  through  the  opulent  East ;  stretched 
the  sceptre  of  her  Doges  over  distant  isles ;  and  filled 
her  treasury  with  the  tribute  of  vanquished  states. 

She  was  the  seat  of  joy,  and  wealth,  and  art.  She 
reveled  in  Carnivals,  and  Masquerades ;  she  was  a  pro- 


VENICE.  245 

verb  for  festivity.  Her  resources  seemed  exhaustless. 
All  lands  supplied  her  markets  ;  Palladio  planned  her 
structures ;  Titian's  pencil  adorned  her  halls ;  Tasso's 
music  floated  on  her  waters.  Her  daughters  were  as 
queens,  her  merchants  monarchs. 

Her  fortune  was  long  propitious,  her  future  fair. 
But  she  reached  her  political  perihelion;  her  glory 
waned,  and  she  was  soon  no  longer  known  amongst  the 
host  of  nations.  And  now  she  is  no  more  free  nor 
great ;  as  much  a  subject  as  once  a  sovereign ;  stoop 
ing  where  she  reigned;  crushed  as  she  once  crushed 
others ;  suffering  what  she  once  inflicted  ;  drinking  the 
gall  she  gave  her  foes ;  brooding  over  prestige  lost, 
trade  declined,  empty  houses,  deserted  streets,  grievous 
taxes,  foreign  soldiers,  disastrous  struggles. 

But  her  history  is  fixed.  Her  name  remains.  Her 
palaces  still  stand.  The  Rialto  spans  the  waters.  The 
Winged  Lion  still  spreads  his  pinions  from  the  column. 
The  Brazen  Steeds  are  yet  rampant  on  Saint  Mark's. 
The  Adriatic  still  offers  her  yielding  bosom  to  the 
plighted  Keel.  Her  rare  scenery  still  endures. 

And  as  we  gaze  on  her  various  charms,  we  anticipate 
her  better  fortune.  As  the  lingering  lustre  of  the 
past  plays  around  her  horizon,  we  would  fain  believe 
the  beams  of  her  setting  sun  to  be  the  gathering  splen 
dors  of  a  new  day. 


GUIDES. 

Guides  in  the  old  countries  are  often  necessary  to 
strangers,  generally  useful,  and  always  expensive. 
Making  allowance  for  the  diversity  of  circumstances 
and  temperaments,  the  tendency  of  their  occupation 
gives  them  a  uniformity  of  character,  and  one  may  be 
taken  as  a  representative  of  the  class. 

He  has  usually  a  pocket  full  of  papers,  recommend 
ing  him  for  qualities,  in  which  he  is  apt  to  be  deficient. 
His  birth  place  is  no  part  of  the  consideration  of  his 
engagement,  but  it  is  gratuitously  referred  to,  as  the 
locality  in  which  he  is  expected  to  serve.  His  parents 
are  often  described,  like  those  whose  sons  have  their 
obituaries  in  the  Newgate  Calendar.  His  merits  are 
hardly  consistent,  as  the  play-wrights  say,  with  the 
probabilities. 

He  professes  proficiency  in  the  modern  languages  ; 
and  something  like  the  preceptor  in  Juvenal,  has  the 
polyglot  dictionary  at  the  end  of  his  nails.  He  is 
familiar  with  the  geography  of  streets  and  museums, 
and  marks  out  maps  on  his  palms.  He  carries  time 
tables  and  hotel  cards ;  has  the  acquaintance  of  the 
most  reliable  hackmen ;  has  tried  the  most  docile  don 
keys  ;  and  has  sometimes  a  cousin  who  waits  in  the 
palace. 

(246) 


GUIDES.  247 

He  has  a  knowledge  of  prices,  distances,  and  con 
tingencies.  He  knows  where  the  best  staples  are  to 
be  had ;  where  the  condiments  have  the  finest  flavor ; 
segars  the  rarest  aroma ;  where  the  relics  are  genuine ; 
and  the  amusements  most  inviting ;  where  you  can  see 
the  New  York  Herald  and  the  London  Times. 

He  knows  what  the  man  ought  to  have  who  makes 
the  echo  in  Killarney ;  what  is  a  sufficient  buona  mano 
to  the  Tuscan  coachman ;  what  is  the  conventional 
gratuity  for  passing  pictures  through  the  Custom 
House  at  Naples;  what  you  must  pay  for  a  mummy's 
ring  in  Egypt ;  what  is  the  discount  on  Austrian  pa 
per  ;  and  the  premium  on  a  pound  sterling  in  Syrian 
piasters. 

He  knows  by  what  gate  the  Emperor  will  leave  the 
palace ;  when  the  Pasha  is  in  the  bath ;  when  the  foun 
tains  will  play  at  St.  Cloud;  when  the  pilgrims  will 
start  for  Mecca.  He  can  tell  how  many  may  stand  in 
the  nose  of  the  statue  of  Bavaria ;  how  many  steps  to 
the  top  of  St.  Paul's.  He  names  the  officers  on  re 
views  ;  he  points  out  the  speakers  in  the  chambers. 

He  is  at  no  loss  for  explanations.  He  tells  why  the 
Irish  round  towers  were  built;  why  the  women  wear 
black  silk  on  their  heads  in  Malta ;  why  they  often 
wear  but  little  else  than  veils  in  the  East ;  how  you 
can  tell  soup  of  horse  shins  by  its  redness ;  and  the 
descendants  of  Mahomet  by  their  green  turbans.  He 
points  out  where  a  child  was  found  blinded  by  vermin, 
which  were  bandaged  on  its  eyes,  to  make  it  an  object 
of  charity.  He  points  out  the  mendicant,  who  begs  on 
the  Alameda,  that  his  daughter,  in  silk  and  jewels,  may 


248  MISCELLANIES. 

ride  on  a  mule ;  the  government  spies,  who  sit  in  the 
cafes ;  the  Sheik  robber,  who  is  related  to  the  Governor. 

He  has  also  been  employed  by  men  of  note.  He 
showed  Washington  Irving  through  the  Alhambra. 
He  was  with  the  American  expedition  to  the  Dead 
Sea.  He  was  with  Lepsius  when  he  lived  amongst 
the  reptiles  and  ruins  of  Karnak.  He  stood  next  to 
Louis  Napoleon  when  he  was  special  constable  during 
the  Chartist  riots.  He  served  Lamartine  in  Florence, 
and  remembers  that  he  commenced  his  studies  before 
daylight. 

He  has  always  items  of  gossip.  He  says  the  Queen 
tore  a  button  from  her  dress,  and  called  Parliament  a 
shabby  set,  for  not  appropriating  more  money  for 
Prince  Albert ;  that  the  Viceroy  at  Cairo  makes  no  se 
cret  of  drinking  the  blood  of  the  grape,  in  defiance  of 
the  Koran  ;  that  the  husband  of  the  Spanish  Queen  is 
rather  stupid,  and  of  little  importance,  and  that  she 
herself  is  not  as  good  as  an  angel ;  that  the  Duke  of 
Baden  compelled  one  of  his  courtiers  to  smoke  some 
bad  domestic  segars,  in  order  to  encourage  their  manu 
facture  ;  that  King  Otho's  wife  abhors  England,  and 
turned  her  back  on  English  travelers  as  they  passed 
her — and  that  his  physician  is  so  absent  minded  that 
he  called  one  night  on  himself,  and  being  told  that  he 
was  out,  slept  at  a  hotel ;  that  the  late  King  of  Prussia 
injured  himself  by  "fast  living;"  that  the  late  Abdul 
Medjid  could  not  control  the  extravagance  of  his  wo 
men  ;  that  in  Munich,  at  her  house  with  the  gilded 
balcony,  old  King  Louis  visited  Lola  Monies. 

Thus  he  appears  to  teem  with  information.  He  is, 
therefore,  voluble,  and  didactic  ;  sees  everything  in 


GUIDES.  249 

the  light  of  an  exhibition ;  and,  like  a  showman,  al 
ways  wants  an  audience.  Worldly  in  all  his  views,  he 
is  liberal  with  regard  to  sects  ;  has  no  cavils  on  doc 
trinal  points ;  usually  conceals  his  prejudices ;  yields 
to  circumstance ;  and  declines  or  performs  a  ceremony 
with  equal  apathy.  Sometimes  for  effect  he  sneers  at 
the  Greek  images ;  laughs  slyly  at  the  picturesque 
figure  of  the  bowing  devotee ;  shrugs  his  shoulders  as 
the  priest  goes  by  in  his  gloomy  gown. 

His  morals  depend  on  occasions ;  and,  unlike  Shaks- 
peare's  Angelo,  he  thinks  it  the  same  thing  to  be  tempt 
ed,  and  to  fall.  He  is  bibulous,  and  rather  courts  than 
shuns  "the  invisible  spirit  of  wine."  He  has  an  ac 
cumulative  disposition ;  conspires,  like  some  govern 
ment  contractors,  with  every  one,  against  his  em 
ployer  ;  takes  a  surreptitious  percentage  on  all  the 
bargains  which  he  makes  for  him ;  leads  him  about  as 
if  he  owned  him ;  excites  his  suspicions  against  the 
roguery  of  others,  in  order  to  conceal  his  own;  con 
stantly  discredits  the  veracity  of  his  own  people,  while 
he  himself,  like  the  Classic  thieves,  dedicates  his  tongue 
to  the  God  of  liars. 

He  avoids  as  much  as  possible  all  inconvenient  duties ; 
practices  very  little  self-denial ;  expects  regular  wages ; 
extra  allowances  at  times  ;  and  when  he  leaves,  valua 
ble  presents,  and  an  unqualified  testimonial  to  his  vir 
tues. 

Such  is  the  guide.  After  he  is  tired  of  his  occupa 
tion,  or  has  acquired  by  it  all  that  it  will  yield  him,  he 
resorts  to  a  settled  life.  He  generally  becomes  a  hotel 
keeper,  and  soon  grows  rich,  respectable  and  oracu 
lar. 


VIENNA. 

We  had  a  cold  journey  over  the  Brenner,  the  lowest 
of  Alpine  passes.  We  traveled  the  Tyrol,  along  valleys 
walled  in  by  hills,  wooded  and  cleared ;  by  ravines  deep 
and  narrow,  in  which  battles  have  been  fought  with 
rocks  and  bullets ;  over  table  lands  dotted  with  cedar 
houses,  which  are  at  once  both  barns  and  dwellings,  ac 
commodating  families  and  cattle.  Women  in  short 
petticoats,  red  as  their  faces,  and  men  in  black  buck 
skin  breeches  with  bright  buttons,  toiled  side  by  side  in 
the  fields  ;  or  harnessed  with  dogs  and  donkeys,  dragged 
little  carts. 

We  steamed  down  the  Danube,  whose  banks  some 
times  spreading  out  into  plains,  are  covered  with  villages; 
sometimes  swell  up  into  mountain  cliffs,  on  which  cas 
tles  hang  like  eagles'  nests.  Here  is  a  convent  or 
chapel,  famous  for  pilgrimages — there,  the  extensive 
chateau  of  a  King  or  Count — there,  the  classic  temple  of 
Valhalla,  filled  with  the  busts  of  celebrated  men. 

We  passed  rafts  of  timber  furlongs  in  extent — canal 
boats  with  towing  horses  by  the  score — whirlpools  rush 
ing  with  a  noise  like  thunder — beautiful  plantations  and 
modern  forts,  and  stopped  at  last  in  the  Capital  of  the 
Austrian  Caesars.  :  •:•  ; 

The  old  Vienna,  now  the  smallest  portion  of  the  city, 
is  seated  like  an  island,  amongst  the  suburbs,  surround- 

(250) 


VIENNA.  251 

ed  by  walls  and  trenches,  and  is  entered  on  every  side 
by  bridges.  It  has  fine  old  palaces,  and  numerous 
squares  with  fountains,  statues,  trees  and  pleasant 
walks. 

The  houses  are  all  stuccoed,  high  and  large,  with 
families  on  different  floors,  and  one  sometimes  contains 
the  population  of  a  village.  By  the  great  arched  gate 
ways,  the  porter  with  tinseled  cap  and  shoulders,  and  a 
stick  like  a  music  major's,  tells  the  visitor  how  many 
stairs  to  clinfb,  and  what  bell  to  pull,  to  find  his  friend. 
Aristocracy  is  in  the  inverse  proportion  to  the  height  of 
the  occupant ;  and  respectability  declines  as  you  ascend. 

The  streets  narrow  and  roughly  paved,  diverge  like 
rays  from  a  central  point.  The  sidewalks  are  almost 
imaginary.  Drivers  regard  no  division  lines ;  and  one 
is  in  constant  proximity  to  carriages  and  horses,  much 
to  the  peril  of  the  short  sighted,  the  absent  minded 
and  the  hard  of  hearing.  The  gayest  windows  are 
stored  with  porcelain  tobacco  bowls  and  amber  segar 
tubes ;  while  all  the  shops  are  designated,  not  by 
owners'  names,  but  by  signs  like  taverns.  You  buy 
gloves  at  the  "Golden  Star,"  linen  at  the  "Green 
Tree,"  coats  of  the  last  fancy  at  the  "  Silver  Button," 
and  patent  hats  at  the  "Lion's  Head." 

Museums  and  galleries  abound.  There  are  the  starred 
green  velvet  robes,  and  the  crown,  with  false  stones, 
which  Napoleon  wore  at  Milan.  The  crown  of  Charle 
magne  with  uncut  jewels ;  and  his  Dalmatian  shoes. 
The  largest  Opal,  and  the  largest  Cameo  known.  The 
ivory  hilted  sword  of  Tamerlane,  and  the  silver  gilt 
cradle  of  the  King  of  Rome.  A  specimen  of  the  gold  of 
an  Alchemist.  Heavy  meteoric  fragments,  some  with 


252  MISCELLANIES. 

dark  sides,  smooth  as  glass.  The  crimson  standard  of 
the  besieging  Turks.  The  stone  battle  axe  captured 
from  Montezuma  by  Cortez.  Titian's  "  Ecce  Homo." 
Reuben's  "Jesuit  casting  out  the  devils."  The  "Holy 
Trinity"  by  Durer.  "Teniers'  Marriage  of  the  Peasants." 
"The  Helen"  of  Canova.  "The  Adonis"  of  Thorwaldsen. 
The  curious  parchment  map  of  the  Roman  Empire  in 
the  fourth  century.  The  Jerusalem  delivered,  written 
and  interlined  by  Tasso's  own  hand. 

There  are  various  hospitals,  gardens,  and  parade 
grounds.  The  royal  remains  are  distributed  amongst  the 
churches — the  heart  in  one,  the  entrails  in  another,  anp 
the  body  in  a  third. 

The  Sabbath  is  a  day  of  sport ;  and  though  some 
might  be  seen  in  the  morning  counting  their  beads  at 
St.  Stephen's  ;  and  some  counting  out  change  in  their 
stores  ;  yet  by  noon,  the  last  prayer  and  the  last  penny 
have  been  made.  The  bells  ring  gaily ;  the  organ 
grinders  pull  away  at  every  corner ;  the  bands  play  at 
the  barracks ;  and  there  is  music  everywhere. 

The  walls  are  covered  with  attractive  placards.  There 
is  a  new  actress — a  new  concert — a  strange  show. 
A  foreigner  plays  in  French  tragedy.  Strauss'  company 
perform  in  the  saloon  at  Sperls.  A  ball  is  open  at 
Volksgarten.  Fire-works  are  to  be  exhibited  in  the 
Prater.  A  constant  holiday  crowd  is  flowing  towards 
the  gates,  the  Glacis  and  the  Bastions. 

Nearly  every  one  is  affable  and  courteous.  The  men 
are  continually  lifting  their  hats  in  salutations.  They 
uncover  when  they  enter  a  shop ;  kiss  when  they  are 
glad  to  see  one  another ;  wish  their  friends  a  good  ap- 


VIENNA.  253 

petite  when  they  eat ;  good  luck  when  they  sneeze,  and 
a  good  voyage  when  they  travel. 

They  are  generally  economical,  ride  mostly  in  third- 
class  cars,  and  the  forepart  of  steamboats.  They 
breakfast  in  their  bed-room  on  bread  and  black  coffee  ; 
dine  by  the  card  at  noon  ;  and  sup  voraciously  on  sau 
sages  at  twilight.  They  drink  more  beer  than  the 
English  ;  and  smoke  more  than  Americans. 

The  Emperor,  when  I  saw  him  some  years  ago,  had 
the  air  of  an  innocent  boy ;  his  face  showed  neither  in 
telligence  nor  beard.  He  walked  in  the  evening  along 
the  promenade  of  his  country  seat — while  the  music  and 
the  fountains  played — familiarly  amongst  his  children,  as 
he  called  his  subjects,  puffing  a  segar  with  juvenile  ve 
hemence. 

His  cabinet  then  was  partly  composed  of  men  who  had 
risen  from  the  barricades,  and  become  hostile  to  the 
very  measures  which  placed  them  in  power.  The  revo 
lution  of  1848,  therefore,  did  not  accomplish  what  it 
promised. 

But  it  gave  some  freedom  to  the  press.  It  opened  the 
courts  to  the  public.  It  gave  criminals  the  right  to  a 
jury  trial.  It  allowed  a  Legislature  to  be  elected  by  an 
almost  universal  suffrage.  These  privileges  have  doubt 
less,  been  since  qualified,  and  some  of  them  withdrawn. 

Even  then  the  city  wore  the  complexion  of  a  camp. 
Cannon  frowned  in  the  open  places.  Bayonets  gleamed 
at  every  turn.  Swords  rattled  over  the  paving  stones. 
The  Judges  presided  in  military  dress.  The  palace  was 
like  a  General's  quarters  in  time  of  war.  The  extremi 
ties  of  the  Empire  were  in  a  still  more  unsettled  condi 
tion. 

22 


254  MISCELLANIES 

Since  then,  a  disastrous  foreign  campaign  has  cut  off 
a  large  portion  of  territory.  Another  internal  revolu 
tion  might  overthrow  a  throne,  still  trembling  from  the 
shocks  of  the  last. 


BALLOONS. 

The  navigation  of  the  air  has  been  the  puzzle  of  ages. 
Men  have  attempted  it  by  infinite  methods,  but  with 
only  partial  success.  We  read  of  Daedalus,  soaring  away 
in  his  fabulous  flight  from  Crete,  on  his  waxed  wings — of 
the  Wooden  Pigeon  of  Archytas,  made  to  float  as  was 
thought,  by  magic — of  the  Eagle  constructed  at  Nurem 
berg,  which  flew  out  and  saluted  Charles  the  Fifth — of 
Roger  Bacons'  proposition  to  sail  a  globe  with  liquid 
fire — of  Bishop  Wilkins'  plan  to  keep  artificial  wings  in 
motion  by  a  mainspring  like  that  of  a  watch — of  the  con 
trivance  of  Francis  Lana,  to  ascend  by  copper  vessels 
exhausted  of  air — of  De  Gusman's  machine  with  its 
hollow  tubes,  its  bellows,  its  magnets  and  amber — 
and  of  others  who  lost  their  fortunes,  their  senses  and 
their  lives  in  fruitless  efforts  to  fly  like  birds. 

At  last  we  find  the  Montgolfiers,  less  than  a  century 
ago,  making  the  first  balloon  ;  and  sending  the  fearless 
voyagers  to  the  clouds  by  means  of  air  heated  by  burning 
straw.  Then  soon  afterwards,  we  hear  of  ascensions  by 
hydrogen  gas,  for  military  and  scientific  objects ;  for 
amusement,  and  for  livelihood.  Latterly  it  has  been 
quite  common  to  see  on  Sundays,  several  of  these  aerial 
sailors  floating  over  Paris. 

While  dining  one  afternoon  in  a  restaurant,  I  was  in 
terrupted  by  the  tramp  and  noise  of  persons  running 

(255) 


256  MISCELLANIES. 

from  all  directions,  down  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  Expect 
ing  a  fire,  or  a  revolution,  I  hastened  out,  and  saw  two 
balloons  nearly  overhead,  stiM  at  a  great  height,  and 
one  of  them  falling  with  fearful  rapidity.  Down  it  came, 
faster  and  nearer — now  drifting  horizontally  in  a  cur 
rent — then  suddenly  sinking.  Once  it  appeared  to  drop 
like  lead  for  a  distance,  then  its  descent  for  a  time,  was 
retarded.  As  it  came  lower,  three  persons  were  dis 
covered  in  the  car.  Soon  they  were  seen  throwing  out 
promiscuous  articles.  Cloaks,  boots,  shawls,  hand 
kerchiefs,  hats,  collars  and  a  bonnet  came  tumbling 
and  circling  to  the  ground.  Though  somewhat  checked 
they  bore  directly  down  against  a  church  steeple.  An 
appalling  catastrophe  seemed  inevitable.  The  slightest 
contact  must  be  fatal.  The  merest  interference  with 
the  netting  or  the  car,  would  disturb  their  equilibrium, 
and  dash  them  to  pieces.  As  the  collision  became  im 
minent,  and  the  intervening  distance  could  be  measured 
by  yards  and  by  seconds,  the  excitement  below  grew 
intense.  Along  the  streets,  and  on  the  roofs  of  houses, 
men  were  frantic  with  emotion.  But  all  were  powerless; 
no  advice  could  instruct,  no  courage  or  humanity  could 
afford  relief.  The  machine  now  careened  within  a 
handbreadth  of  the  cupola.  The  next  vibration  must 
cause  it  to  strike.  People  gasped  for  breath — some 
glanced  another  way  to  avoid  the  sight — some  grew 
sick  and  swooned — some  threw  up  their  hands  in  a  vain 
oifer  to  save — some  dropped  their  arms  in  despair — all 
were  pale  and  dumb  with  terror.  When  just  as  the 
shock  and  crash  of  death  were  expected,  a  puff  of  wind 
made,  perhaps,  by  the  balloon's  own  motion,  caused  it 
to  veer  off — it  swung  gently  away — down  by  the  chim- 


BALLOONS.  257 

ney  stacks  and  cornices — and  its  living  freight  were 
saved.  The  crowd  smiled  with  joy.  The  landing  was 
made.  A  lady  bareheaded,  and  two  gentlemen  in  shirt 
sleeves  and  without  hats  or  hose,  still  wearing  the 
ghastly  expression  of  their  escape  and  danger,  were  soon 
overwhelmed  with  congratulations. 

Having  refreshed  themselves  in  a  cafe,  two  of  them 
re-mounted  the  car,  rose  again  rapidly ;  and  relieved  by 
their  re-ascension,  as  was  afterwards  related,  the  anx 
iety  of  the  father  of  one  of  them,  who  was  in  the  other 
balloon. 

Various  novelties  are  sometimes  introduced  in  these 
exhibitions  to  increase  their  attractions.  Induced  by  a 
large  handbill  posted  about  Vienna,  I  followed  the  living 
stream  that  poured  into  the  Prater,  to  witness  a  man 
go  up  on  horseback. 

It  excited  extraordinary  curiosity.  The  wide  field 
was  covered  with  spectators.  Mounted  policemen,  courte 
ous  and  vigilant,  were  riding  in  all  directions.  Coaches 
garnished  with  heraldry  moved  along  the  avenues. 
Pretty  women  were  strolling  in  full  dress  under  the 
chestnut  trees.  Showmen  were  displaying  their  numer 
ous  wares  and  tricks  at  every  turn.  Hucksters  were 
everywhere  offering  cakes,  and  fruit  and  beverage.  All 
the  men  appeared  to  smoke  either  cigars,  cigarettes  or 
pipes. 

The  balloon  with  a  zodiac  painted  on  it,  soon  filled 
and  began  to  rise.  First  was  seen  the  man's  head, 
which  was  a  source  of  incipient  satisfaction ;  and  as  he  gra 
dually  appeared  with  the  horse  beneath  him,  sumptuously 
caparisoned,  the  admiration  became  boisterous ;  and 
a  great  shout  greeted  the  gallant  cavalier.  Buthe  neither 


258  MISCELLANIES. 

bowed,  nor  moved  a  limb,  nor  spake  a  word,  nor  gave  a 
sign  of  recognition.  The  horse's  ears  kept  erect ;  his 
tail  stood  straight  and  permanent.  A  low  murmur  of 
surprise  succeeded ;  then  came  an  inquisitive  pause  ;  an 
instant's  suspicion — and  there  was  a  simultaneous  per 
ception  of  the  hoax.  Twenty  thousand  people,  as  if 
they  thought  their  credulity  deserved  deception,  broke 
forth  into  a  universal  laugh — so  loud  and  prolonged, 
that  the  air  seemed  shaking  with  merriment — as  the 
irresponsible  wooden  aeronauts  sailed  ludicrously  away 
towards  the  stars. 

It  was  on  the  Champ  de  Mars,  of  Paris,  whence  in 
1780,  the  first  hydrogen  balloon  went  up,  that  I  once 
saw  a  spectacle,  which  was  unique  even  in  that  city  of 
shows. 

The  population,  from  the  rag-pickers  to  Napoleon, 
gathered  there  to  behold  the  ascension  of  a  chariot  and 
horses.  A  wide  circuit  was  formed,  and  inclosed  by 
ropes  to  prevent  intrusion.  Bands  of  music  enlivened 
the  interval  of  preparation.  Infantry,  cavalry  and 
uniformed  police  threw  a  military  lustre  over  the  scene. 
The  balloon  itself  made  of  red,  white  and  blue,  repre 
sented  the  national  colors.  As  it  swelled  out  into  its 
enormous  globular  dimensions,  it  seemed  like  a  miniature 
planet  about  to  be  launched  on  its  orbit. 

Mr.  Poitevin,  his  wife,  and  servant  seated  in  an  open 
four  wheeled  vehicle,  drove  the  two  ponies  around  the 
ring,  amidst  bravos  and  applause.  This  display  showed 
that  there  was  no  imposition  intended,  and  that  there 
would  be  no  interference  by  the  Government.  It  had 
been  said,  that  as  the  elevation  of  the  animals  would 


BALLOONS.  259 

injure  them,  and  cause  the  blood  to  gush   from  their 
nostrils,  so  cruel  an  experiment  would  not  be  allowed. 

In  the  meantime,  several  small  balloons  were  sent  up 
in  advance  ;  some  in  the  shape  of  men,  painted  in  gaudy 
colors,  and  which  retaining  their  upright  position,  went 
dancing  over  the  city  like  real  harlequins. 

Presently,  the  long  circuit  having  been  made,  the 
aeronauts  drove  towards  the  great  balloon — the  horses 
halted — drew  back — reared — and  with  some  difficulty 
were  attached  to  the  netting,  by  straps  placed  under 
their  bodies,  and  the  bed  of  the  wagon. 

At  the  word — at  a  tap  of  the  drum — with  a  stroke  of 
the  whip — and  a  bound  of  the  horses,  who  vainly  at 
tempted  to  strike  the  ground — they  suddenly  rose  as  if 
at  a  gallop,  amidst  the  applauding  clamor  of  tongues 
and  trumpets.  But  the  poor  beasts,  as  they  saw  the 
earth  sinking  beneath,  hung  their  heads  and  tails  in  hope 
less  humility.  For  a  long-time  the  unscattered  multitude 
gazed  steadfastly  and  wonderingly  at  them,  as  they 
ascended  above  house  tops — above  steeples  and  towers — 
above  the  flight  of  birds.  They  drifted  for  a  while, 
eastwardly,  and  then  soared  up  till  they  diminished  to 
half  their  bulk — till  their  outlines  grew  indistinct — till 
horses,  wagon  and  aeronauts  faded  into  a  point — till 
they  disappeared  beyond  the  reach  of  tubes  and  glasses. 

The  next  morning  the  journals  announced  their  safe 
descent  and  return  to  Paris.  Afterwards  I  saw  the 
same  party  make  a  successful  ascent  from  the  same 
place  on  three  horses,  one  being  elevated  above  the 
others,  in  a  sort  of  pyramidal  group.  A  feat  which 
seemed  to  rival  that  of  the  enchanted  steed  of  Walpole. 


BERLIN. 

Berlin  is  in  the  midst  of  a  sandy  plain,  through 
which  flows  the  Spree,  an  insignificant  stream,  called, 
by  courtesy,  a  river.  The  streets  well  paved,  well 
cleaned,  wide  and  straight  ;  brick  houses  stuccoed, 
uniform  in  style  and  color ;  numerous  public  buildings 
of  architectural  merit ;  some  pleasant  promenades ;  a 
beautiful  fountain,  and  several  national  works  of  art 
adorning  the  gates,  the  bridges  and  the  squares,  give 
the  city  rather  a  magnificent  appearance. 

There  is  any  amount  of  amusement  for  the  idle,  and 
every  advantage  for  the  studious.  There  is  an  elegant 
Opera  house,  where  Toechteck  was  the  prima  donna ; 
and  Taglioni  danced  in  the  ballets — and  a  theatre, 
where  authors  sometimes  played  in  their  own  comedies ; 
and  Meyerbeer  lead  the  orchestra  in  his  own  music. 

The  museum  has  its  outside  frescoed  by  Cornelius, 
with  a  representation  of  the  dawn  and  progress  of  the 
world. — The  first  day,  born  amidst  the  smile  of  Hope 
and  the  songs  of  Angels  ;  then  the  sports  of  shepherds ; 
the  reign  of  the  Muses  ;  the  inauguration  of  Labor ;  the 
glory  of  Law.  Within  the  building  are  pictures  of  all 
schools — some  new,  some  rare — such  as  the  famous 
piece  of  Leda  and  the  Swan ;  and  lo  and  the  Cloud, 
once  partially  injured  under  a  fastidious  notion  of  pro 
priety. 

(260) 


BERLIN.  201 

The  attic  of  the  Palace  is  full  of  curious  relics — the 
tall  mug  from  which  Luther  drank  his  beer ;  the  cocked 
hat  Napoleon  wore  at  Waterloo ;  the  canes  and  linen 
of  Frederick  the  Great;  the  spangled  uniform  and 
stockings  of  Murat ;  the  model  windmill  which  the 
Czar  Peter  built  in  Holland. 

The  arsenal  contains  weapons  of  all  eras,  from  the 
leathern  cannon  of  Gustavus  to  the  last  invented  gun 
and  bullet.  You  may  ride  thence  in  a  premium  dros- 
key,  and  draw,  perhaps,  a  lottery  prize ;  see  sentinels 
presenting  arms  to  an  officer  almost  out  of  sight ;  and 
truck  wagons  hauled  by  curs,  who  run  howling  to  the 
market,  an  open  place  without  roof  or  stalls. 

In  an  eating  house  you  may  have  soup  of  apples,  or 
of  ale  ;  drink  beer  in  a  wine  cellar,  noisy  with  the  rat 
tle  of  dominoes,  and  dark  with  tobacco  smoke. 

The  widest  street  in  Europe  is  here,  planted  with 
lindens  through  the  centre ;  crowded  with  fashionable 
folks  at  noon ;  and  until  the  watchmen  whistle  the 
hours  at  night,  shining  with  windows  full  of  iron  trin 
kets  and  Dresden  china.  The  Thiergarten  is  laid  out 
in  sandy  walks  amongst  beech  and  cedar  trees ;  where 
cripples  play  hand  organs ;  and  ladies  with  lap  dogs, 
and  officers  off  duty,  lounge  along  the  alleys. 

An  entertaining  establishment,  called  Krolls,  since 
burnt,  was  fancifully  arranged  with  grottos  ;  mossy 
rocks  and  gushing  water-falls ;  sylph-like  figures  float 
ing  in  the  air ;  lamps  glittering  amongst  lilies,  and 
music  which  seemed  to  issue  from  the  clouds.  Near 
by,  is  a  little  lake,  which,  when  frozen  over,  was  daily 
ringing  with  the  merry  sound  of  skaters — boys  and 


262  MISCELLANIES. 

girls,  old  men  and  dames,  went  whirling  and  wheeling 
as  if  their  heels  were  winged  like  Mercury's. 

The  churches  are  chiefly  Protestant,  but  not  heated 
in  winter ;  and  you  may  sit,  and  shiver,  and  listen 
there  to  noted  theologian  doctors,  who  are  paid  by  the 
State  ;  or,  perhaps,  see  an  ancient  couple  celebrating 
the  golden  marriage,  by  renewing  the  vows  which 
they  first  made  fifty  years  before. 

The  University  has  usually  fifteen  hundred  students, 
who  are  allowed  to  smoke  in  the  lecture  rooms ;  and 
are  called  in  their  first  year,  foxes  ;  in  the  second, 
lions  ;  and  in  the  last,  asses. 

While  there,  several  years  ago,  I  saw  Humboldt  at  a 
society  meeting ;  every  one  rose  as  he  entered.  He 
wore  a  dark  suit  and  a  white  cravat.  His  expression 
was  benevolent,  as  became  one  whose  life  had  been  de 
voted  to  the  improvement  of  mankind.  His  head  was 
large,  and  his  forehead  broad  and  high,  as  his  genius 
was  comprehensive  and  original.  His  keen,  bright 
eyes,  were  such  as  one  could  fancy,  had  surveyed  near 
ly  all  the  visible  globe.  His  white  hair  hung,  like  a 
silver  crown,  around  his  temples.  The  prestige  of  his 
learning,  greater  than  Pliny's ;  and  of  his  travels, 
more  extensive  than  Plato's  ;  and  his  imposing  ap 
pearance,  made  one  regard  him  with  a  sort  of  wonder, 
as  the  representative  of  a  scientific  century,  and  a 
great  oracle  of  nature. 

There  also  was  Bncke,  who  had  give  his  name  to  a 
comet,  engaged  amongst  lenses  and  logarithms  ;  with 
his  right  eye  larger  than  the  left,*owing,  perhaps,  to 
his  ocular  labors.  There  was  Schelling,  the  head  of  a 
numerous  school  in  metaphysics  ;  Ranke  and  Raumer, 


BERLIN.  263 

the  historians,  both  men  of  small  stature.  Heffter, 
Gneist  and  Keller,  doctors  of  law ;  Dove,  professor  of 
physics  ;  Muller,  of  anatomy  ;  Lepsius,  of  antiquities  ; 
and  Hitter,  the  geographer,  who  was  very  old  and 
dressed  in  black  stocking  and  knee  breeches. 

The  funeral  of  Link,  the  botanist,  was  followed  by 
the  royal  coaches. 

The  courts  of  justice  had  no  rules  of  special  plead 
ing,  and  few  books  of  reports.  The  Judges  decided 
facts  in  civil  cases ;  determined  the  law  without  re 
gard  to  precedents ;  and  the  majority  of  a  criminal 
jury  could  render  a  verdict.  The  two  chambers  of  the 
Legislature  were  elected  by  restricted  suffrage,  under 
the  constitution  of  1848,  which  was  so  loosely  or 
adroitly  worded,  that  it  did  not  prevent  oppression. 

Personal  liberty  was  guaranteed — but  in  a  time  of 
peace,  one  could  hardly  move  without  permission  of 
the  police.  The  dwelling  was  inviolable — but  under 
a  pretext  of  public  safety,  every  house  was  open  to 
officials.  The  press  was  free — but  a  word  against  the 
administration  was  punished  by  banishment.  Speech 
was  free — but  the  people  could  not  assemble  in  the  open 
air  for  political  discussion.  The  ministry  was  responsi 
ble — but  it  met  an  accusation  by  a  dissolution  of  the 
chambers. 

The  King  was  amiable,  fond  of  his  wife,  of  literature 
and  champagne — but  he  repented  of  the  concessions 
forced  upon  him  in  1848,  and  was  anxious  to  recover 
his  lost  prerogatives.  The  Government  tried  every 
means  to  bring  back  the  system  which  the  revolution 
had  partly  destroyed.  Thus  they  lost  confidence  at 


264  MISCELLANIES. 

home  *,  and  afterwards,  the  respect  of  Europe,  by  their 
external  policy. 

The  affairs  of  the  Electorate  of  Hesse  and  of  the 
Duchy  of  Holstein  offered  a  fair  opportunity  to 
Prussia  of  becoming  the  defender  of  constitutional 
ideas.  The  sympathy  of  the  world  was  with  her,  as 
she  seemed  to  be  preparing  to  oppose  the  oppressive 
interference  of  Austria,  instigated  by  the  Russian 
Czar. 

She  summoned  her  subjects,  and  they  forgot  the 
broken  pledges  and  delayed  reforms,  and  responded 
with  enthusiasm.  Old  men  had  not  seen  the  like.  The 
whole  nation  became  an  'army.  From  the  fields,  the 
shops  and  the  lecture  rooms,  came  the  farmers,  the 
tradesmen,  and  the  students.  Pamphlets  were  written 
on  the  ambitious  designs  of  the  enemy.  The  news 
papers  teemed  with  articles  about  Frederick  the  Great 
and  the  Fatherland.  Ancient  glory  and  ancient  sacri 
fices  were  recalled.  Striplings  were  reminded  of  those 
who  bore  the  national  eagles  at  Leipzig ;  and  girls  of 
their  grandmothers,  who  had  exchanged  their  jewelry 
for  iron.  Horses  were  taken  from  cabs  and  wagons 
to  mount  the  cavalry.  Tailors  and  women  sewed  day 
and  night  amongst  brass  buttons  and  blue  cloth.  The 
streets  echoed  with  the  continual  rattle  of  artillery 
trains  and  kettle  drums.  The  crown  Prince  reviewed 
the  troops  as  they  passed.  The  King  harangued  them 
on  horseback. 

There  were  parting  scenes  at  the  stations — mothers 
went  to  wring  the  hands  of  sons — young  wives  to  weep 
at  sudden  separations — servant  girls  to  exchange  fare 
well-winks  with  corporals. 


BERLIN.  265 

But  all  this  proved  to  be  a  vain  parade,  a  mere  blus 
ter,  which  signally  failed  of  its  purpose.  The  court  of 
St.  Petersburgh  prevailed  without  a  blow  ;  its  influence 
urged  the  Prussians  out  of  the  Electorate,  and  sent  an 
Austrian  army  into  the  Duchies.  Foreign  powers 
smiled  at  the  ridiculous  conclusion  of  this  bravado  ; 
but  every  honest  Prussian  blushed  for  his  country. 

23 


A  VISIT  TO  A  GEEMAN  BARON. 

One  winter  morning,  as  I  was  taking  the  usual  Con 
tinental  breakfast  of  biscuit  and  coffee,  in  the  gayest 
cafe  in  Berlin,  a  middle  aged,  respectable  looking  gen 
tleman  came  in,  and  sat  near  me.  Perceiving  that  I 
read  Galignani,  a  newspaper,  printed  at  Paris,  in  Eng 
lish,  and  found  in  the  principal  coffee  houses  of  Europe, 
he  accosted  me  in  that  language. 

He  spoke  intelligently  of  the  topics  of  the  day  ;  the 
threatened  war  with  Austria  ;  the  discipline  of  the 
Prussian  troops,  who  had  been  marching  for  weeks 
through  the  streets ;  and  the  chief  objects  of  interest 
in  the  city.  When  he  discovered  that  I  was  from  the 
United  States,  he  became  more  cordial,  and  terminated 
the  interview  with  an  offer  of  friendship  and  hospitality. 
Giving  me  his  address,  he  civilly  invited  me  to  his 
house.  By  his  card,  it  appeared  that  he  was  Baron 
S.,  formerly  an  officer  in  the  military  service. 

A  week  later,  strolling  along  amidst  a  brilliant  crowd 
of  vehicles  and  pedestrians,  in  the  Thier  Garten,  the 
fashionable  promenade  of  the  Prussian  capital,  I  found 
myself  opposite  the  residence  of  my  titled  friend.  It 
was  a  handsome  house,  very  high,  and  gave  an  impres 
sion  of  wealth  and  importance.  The  front  door  bell 
was  rung  without  success.  A  wood"  chopper,  in  a  side 

(266) 


A   VISIT   TO   A   GERMAN   BARON.  267 

alley,  beckoned  me  to  a  back  gate.  I  rang  there,  and 
a  seedy  servant  directed  me  to  ascend  the  stairway. 

I  journeyed  up  for  five  or  six  stories — every  one  of 
which  was  occupied  by  a  family — until  the  Baron's  door 
was  reached,  on  the  last  flight  of  steps.  It  seem 
ed  as  if  I  had  climbed  a  mountain  or  a  monument ;  and 
with  some  feeling  of  triumph,  I  stood  upon  the  summit. 
Here,  thought  I,  the  Baron  has  some  enchanting  pros 
pect  which  repays  him  for  the  toil  of  the  ascent ;  or, 
perhaps,  some  eccentric  humor  which  sees  enjoyment 
in  an  inconvenience  ;  or,  perhaps,  some  malady  which 
the  exertion  of  climbing  alleviates ;  or,  perhaps,  he  is 
self-denying  and  mortifies  the  flesh  for  penance ;  or, 
perhaps,  he  rents  his  more  convenient  rooms  below  for 
the  purpose  of  increasing  his  charitable  funds. 

Indulging  such  thoughts — and  though  his  printed 
card  was  nailed  on  the  door — I  still  expected  to  be 
dazzled  by  the  costly  appointments  usually  associated 
with  rank.  I  was  not  unprepared  for  a  display  of 
liveried  servants,  tapestried  walls,  velvet  floors  and 
luxurious  seats.  A  young  boy — between  a  peascod 
and  blossom,  as  Shakspeare  says — in  shirt  sleeves  and 
second-hand  trowsers,  both  of  which  seemed  spotted 
with  dye  stuff",  admitted  me  into  an  uncarpeted  parlor. 

This  shabby  fellow,  and  the  desolate  appearance  of  the 
room,  rather  chilled  my  imagination.  A  piano,  which 
seemed  to  be  the  relic  of  better  days,  stood  alone  in  a 
dingy  corner.  A  stove  no  larger  than  a  man's  hat, 
and  used  for  cooking,  had  on  it  an  earthen  coffee  pot, 
with  a  broken  handle.  The  only  chair  had  no  back, 
which,  after  the  warmest  salutation,  the  Baron  politely 
tendered  to  me,  while  he  inclined  against  the  window  sill. 


268  MISCELLANIES. 

We  had  a  desultory  conversation  about  the  news  and 
his  son,  ten  years  of  age,  whose  warlike  disposition  threat 
ened  my  pantaloons  with  a  tin  sword ;  and  which  seem 
ed  to  assure  his  father  that  he  was  destined  for  the 
navy.  Nothing  could  be  inferred  from  what  he  said, 
that  he  was  in  any  way  embarrassed ;  or  that  his  pre 
sent  circumstances  exhibited  anything  unusual.  He 
regretted,  unnecessarily,  as  the  sequel  proved,  the  ab 
sence  of  his  lady,  whose  proficiency  in  music  would 
have  afforded  an  agreeable  entertainment. 

Suddenly  a  loud  voice  was  heard  at  the  door,  and 
the  desired  lady  entered  at  a  bound.  She  was  younger 
than  her  husband ;  with  indifferent  features ;  and  rather 
carelessly  attired  in  rusty  garments.  With  eyes  glis 
tening  like  a  panther's,  she  assailed  the  Baron  with  a 
volley  of  German.  He  deprecated  her  abruptness,  and 
pointed  imploringly  towards  me.  But  excited  beyond 
control,  she  raged  like  a  Fury,  and  made  alarming 
gesticulations.  The  poor  man  at  last  exasperated,  re 
turned  her  abuse ;  and  a  universal  hubbub  filled  the 
hospitable  mansion. 

The  difficulty  arose  from  the  Baron's  selling  some 
mattresses,  and  keeping  the  money.  I  made  a  posi 
tive  move  to  depart — the  great  lady  observed  me  then 
for  the  first  time ;  and  with  much  courtesy  requested 
me,  as  did  also  the  Baron,  to  remain  for  dinner.  Not 
being  assured  of  a  very  long  truce  between  the  parties ; 
nor  tempted  by  the  prospect  of  a  luxurious  repast,  I 
thanked  them  kindly,  and  made  a  lively  retreat.  Ru 
minating,  as  I  descended,  on  the  happiness  of  high  life 
above  stairs,  and  the  mysteries  of  German  aristocracy. 


HOLLAND. 

There  are  but  few  countries  which  are  more  interest 
ing  than  Holland.  The  sea  has  been  driven  from  its 
bed  to  aiford  sites  for  cities,  and  fields  for  harvests. 
The  tide  is  higher  than  the  land,  and  the  surf  beats  over 
the  housetops.  It  requires  constant  labor  to  avoid  dis 
aster.  All  the  hills  are  appropriated  for  dikes.  Fire 
and  winds  are  employed  against  the  water.  Banks 
composed  of  sand,  straw,  and  twigs,  and  planted  with 
grass  and  willows,  form  the  roads,  and  fix  limits  to 
the  ocean.  Pumps,  which  are  worked  by  sails  or  steam, 
bail  out  the  leakage,  and  expose  new  soil.  The  country 
is  intersected  by  canal  and  ditches. 

The  Hollander  finds  water  wherever  he  turns — the 
first  object  in  the  morning — the  last  at  night.  Its 
vapors  float  over  his  head — its  percolations  form  the  bog 
at  his  feet.  Its  prevalence  assails  all  his  senses — he 
hears  its  roar  beyond  the  dikes — he  sees  it  around  him 
in  currents  or  in  ponds — he  smells  its  impurities  at  all 
hours.  It  pervades  his  cities,  and  his  meadows. 

It  obviates,  in  a  great  measure  the  necessity  of  fences, 
roads,  and  forts.  It  divides  his  possessions  from  his 
neighbors — protects  his  property  from  trespass — defends 
his  country  from  invasion.  It  supplies  him  with  food 
for  his  table — a  staple  article  for  export — and  facilities 
for  transportation,  travel,  and  amusement.  In  winter, 

(269) 


270  MISCELLANIES. 

on  sleds  and  skates,  he  slides  and  glides  upon  its  sur 
face.  He  builds  his  summer  house  over  the  pool,  to 
while  away  the  sultry  hours,  amidst  the  croaking  of 
frogs,  the  gambols  of  terrapin  and  the  fumes  of  his  pipe. 

He  sometimes  makes  a  boat  his  home,  and  has  a 
garden,  cultivates  vegetables,  pigs,  poultry,  and  child 
ren,  amongst  oars,  ropes  and  canvas.  The  wharf  streets 
are  crowded  with  wharehouses,  full  of  fish  cured  for  com 
merce.  It  seems  as  if  nearly  every  man  is  a  sailor. 
The  people  indulge  themselves  in  a  holiday  when  the 
fishing  smacks  weigh  anchor.  Parties  were  once  desig 
nated  by  the  names  of  Hooks  and  Codfish.  One  of 
their  greatest  benefactors  was  Beukel,  who  discovered 
the  method  of  pickling  herring.  Another  was  Roblas, 
who  contrived  the  method  of  constructing  permanent 
dikes.  Another  is  asserted  to  have  invented  canal 
locks. 

One  of  their  best  admirals  was  a  fisherman.  One  of 
their  best  strategists  inaugurated  the  policy  of  turning 
the  sea  through  sluices  against  an  enemy.  It  was  the 
flood  which  delivered  their  beleaguered  cities,  when  star 
vation  and  the  Spaniards  assailed  them.  It  was  their 
fleet  which  ravaged  the  coast,  and  humbled  the  flag  of 
England.  It  was  to  save  their  ship  from  capture,  that 
Van  Speyk  destroyed  it,  with  himself  and  crew.  It 
was  by  a  bark  of  armed  men  concealed  under  fuel,  that 
a  Dutch  Captain  recovered  Breda. 

Thus  the  element,  which  invests  Holland,  is  associated 
with  its  interest  and  its  glory,  with  its  history,  with  its 
hopes.  It  is  at  once  the  source  of  prosperity  and  danger. 
It  is  prominent  in  every  description  and  caricature  of 
travelers.  It  provokes  the  jest  of  wits,  and  the  sneers 


HOLLAND.  271 

of  the  splenetic.  They  have  called  the  country  the 
paradise  of  ducks  and  lizards — "a  land  that  rides  at 
anchor" — where  the  people  are  amphibious — where  the 
women  are  descended  from  mermaids,  and  the  men  once 
wore  fins. 

But  plentiful  as  is  that  fluid,  it  is  in  most  places  un 
palatable,  and  one  might  say  with  the  ancient  Mariner  : 

«« "Water,  water  everywhere, 
Nor  any  drop  to  drink." 

They  are  often  obliged  to  transport  it  from  distant 
springs.  They  conduct  into  reservoirs  all  the  rain  that 
falls. 

The  facilities  for  washing,  are  however,  so  extensive, 
that  scrubbing  seems  to  be  as  much  of  a  pastime  as  a 
duty.  Cleanliness  of  a  certain  sort,  is  a  national  vir 
tue.  The  floors  are  as  white  as  lime,  upon  which,  often, 
as  upon  those  of  a  mosque,  none  but  barefeet  are  allowed 
to  tread.  Yet  frequently,  the  stable  adjoins  the  dwell 
ing,  and  the  cow  and  the  family  enjoy  the  shelter  of  the 
same  roof. 

Politeness  is  very  general.  Peasants  raise  their  hats 
to  strangers — yet,  nearly  every  man  wears  his  hat  in 
church,  and  burns  his  tobacco  in  the  cars  and  the  sta 
tions,  though  a  notice  in  four  languages  forbids  smoking. 

Their  customs  are  curious  and  permanent.  As  with 
the  ancients,  ivy  leaves  marked  a  wine  shop :  and  Lu- 
cian's  lawyer,  to  allure  the  clients,  decked  his  gate  with 
with  twigs  of  palm  :  so  badges  are  common  here.  Lace  is 
fastened  on  the  door  when  a  child  is  born,  and  prevents 
the  entrance  of  a  bailiff.  A  basket  of  evergreens  over 
a  shop  announces  the  arrival  of  fresh  herring  in 
the  spring.  A  bulletin  hanging  from  the  knocker 


272  MISCELLANIES. 

states  the  condition  of  an  invalid,  and  saves  him  from 
intrusion.  Images  of  turbaned  Moors  indicate  the 
drug  stores.  Men  dressed  in  black  with  cocked  hats 
and  wigs,  knee  breeches  and  stockings,  are  employed  to 
announce  a  death,  and  attend  a  funeral.  The  stage 
drivers  blow  their  horns  at  every  village.  The  watch 
men,  with  the  prudence  of  Dogberry,  give  notice  of  their 
approach  by  striking  the  pavement  with  an  iron  staff. 

The  women  look  handsome  and  wholesome — ruddy 
with  blood  and  health.  They  adorn  their  heads  with 
caps,  and  bands  of  brass  or  gold.  They  carry  with 
them  wherever  they  go,  a  small  basin  of  hot  coals  for 
their  feet.  They  are  not,  however,  entirely  devoted  to 
display.  They  hold  the  plough  in  the  field.  They 
haul  the  boat  in  the  canal.  They  drag  the  truck  to 
market,  in  the  traces  with  a  dog.  They  are  sometimes 
obliged  to  hire  their  sweethearts  for  a  festival. 

The  poor  of  both  sexes  wear  wooden  shoes.  The 
houses  are  built  of  bricks  or  frame,  and  covered  with 
tiles  or  thatch.  They  are  sometimes  very  high  ;  their 
gables  face  the  street ;  and  because  of  their  yielding 
foundations  generally  lean  a  foot  or  more  from  the  per 
pendicular.  Storks  live  on  the  chimney  tops;  and 
some  of  them  are  maintained  by  the  Government. 

The  steeples  are  as  sharp  as  spears.  The  clocks 
chime  the  hours.  The  sidewalks  are  formed  of  brick 
laid  edgwise.  Mirrors  are  arranged  outside  of  every 
window  to  reflect  within  the  transactions  of  the  street. 
The  wheelbarrows  have  no  legs.  Coaches  are  seen  on 
runners  instead  of  wheels.  The  wagons  are  long,  low 
and  narrow,  without  tongues,  and  the  driver  guides 
them  with  his  foot  upon  the  pole.  The  traces  are 


HOLLAND.  273 

made  of  ropes.  The  ploughs  have  a  prop  to  hold  them 
steady.  The  clods  are  mashed  with  a  shovel,  not  with 
rollers. 

The  cows  in  winter  have  their  tails  tied  up.  They 
paint  the  trunks  of  certain  trees;  and  carve  arches 
through  the  branches ;  and  train  the  plants  into  curi 
ous  shapes.  They  burn  peat  for  fuel ;  they  drink  gin 
and  beer  for  a  beverage ;  and  are  almost  the  only  Eu 
ropeans  who  chew  tobacco. 

They  encourage  music — but  their  most  common  in 
struments  are  those  which  are  filled  by  the  bellows,  or 
played  by  a  crank.  They  are  fond  of  those  huge  organ 
pipes,  whose  roar  seems  like  thunder  evolved  in  tunes 
— and  of  those  vagrants  with  portable  boxes,  who 
huckster  music  on  the  highways.  They  have  no 
singing  boatmen  like  Venice.  You  do  not  hear 
Tasso's  echoes  on  the  water. 

There  seem  to  be  but  few  fine  specimens  of  archi 
tecture.  Marble  columns  are  not  so  numerous  as  the 
masts  of  vessels.  The  landscape  displays  more  wind 
mills  than  palaces.  The  museums,  amongst  other 
things,  have  curiosities  from  Japan  and  the  ocean — 
delicate  straw  work,  and  pens  of  hair  to  write  on  sand 
— and  mermaids  formed  of  female  skeletons  and  fishes 
tails.  Galleries,  teeming  with  pictures  of  hay  fields, 
cattle,  game  and  shipping,  illustrate  the  practical 
genius  of  the  people. 

They  are  industrious.  Trade  is  universal ;  and  each 
town  is  distinguished  for  some  particular  branch  of 
business.  Deventer  is  devoted  to  the  baking  of  ginger 
cakes,  and  the  process  is  regulated  by  law.  Gonda  is 
famous  for  those  tobacco  pipes  which  seem  to  contri- 


274  MISCELLANIES. 

bute  so  much  to  the  phlegm  and  happiness  of  Dutch 
men.  Alkmaar  is  the  chief  depot  for  cheese,  which  is 
made  round  as  cannon  balls,  and  piled,  like  them,  in 
pyramids  upon  the  ground.  Schiedam  is  the  seat  of 
those  distilleries,  whose  aromatic  schnapps  give  a 
charm  to  foreign  drug  shops. 

Delft  is  the  headquarters  of  the  potteries.  Haarlem 
is  the  market  of  flowers  ;  where  once  the  tulip  mania 
raged,  which  afterwards  infected  Goldsmith,  and  re 
duced  his  fortunes  to  a  shirt.  Amsterdam  is  noted  for 
cutting  diamonds,  and  taking  discount ;  and  formerly 
sustained  the  armies,  and  controlled  the  currency  of 
Europe.  Rotterdam  has  had  almost  exclusive  trafiic 
with  the  Japanese  ;  who  so  lately  have,  for  the  first 
time,  traveled  by  railroad  and  read  by  gas  light.  Ley- 
den,  Gronigen,  and  Utrecht,  have  honored  universities. 
The  Hague  holds  the  palace  and  the  court. 

All  Dutch  towns  are  delightfully  shaded  by  trees. 
All  have  credit  for  their  charitable  institutions.  Their 
patriots  once  assumed  the  name  of  beggars.  Many  of 
them  have  endured  seiges  as  famous  as  those  of  Nu- 
mantia  or  Genoa.  Many  of  them  are  connected  with 
illustrious  names — with  such  statesmen  as  De  Witt — 
with  such  scholars  as  Erasmus — with  philosophers  such 
as  Grotius — with  heroes  like  the  Tromps — with  painters 
like  Rembrandt — with  poets  like  Vondel — with  Huy- 
ghens,  who  invented  the  pendulum  clock — with  Coster, 
who  carved  types  on  blocks  before  Guttemberg,  of 
Mayence — with  Beiling,  who,  a  prisoner  on  parol, 
imitated  the  scrupulous  honor  of  Regulus  in  his  volun 
tary  return  to  be  buried  in  the  ground  alive. 


THE  RHINE. 

For  several  weeks  we  were  on  the  banks,  or  on  the 
bosom  of  the  Rhine.  It  was  a  cheerless  season.  The 
rough  signs  of  winter  still  prevailed.  There  were  the 
wild  winds ;  the  cloudy  skies  ;  the  chilling  showers, 
and  the  strong  red  current  of  the  swollen  river. 

But  the  grander  features  of  the  country  were  con 
spicuous  ;  and  heights,  chasms  and  crags  were  not  con 
cealed  by  the  luxuriant  screens  of  summer.  The  ground 
was  desolate  and  dark,  except  here  and  there  a  speck 
of  green,  or  an  early  flower  peeped  through  the  brush, 
like  eyes  through  eastern  veils.  The  last  year's  leaves 
hung  like  rags  upon  the  naked  oaks ;  and  the  plaintive 
notes  of  some  stray  birds  disturbed  the  silence  of  the 
forests. 

A  variety  of  scenery,  history  and  legends,  gives  pe 
culiar  interest  to  these  shores.  Without  the  moun 
tainous  banks  of  the  Elbe  ;  or  the  massy  antiquities 
of  the  Nile ;  or  the  vast  commerce  of  the  Thames, 
there  are  yet  mingled,  in  some  degree,  the  attractions 
of  them  all. 

There  are  populous  plains,  with  their  ploughed  fields 
and  leafless  orchards  ;  and  monuments  to  heroes  and  to 
victories.  There  are  the  white  walls  of  cities,  with  free 
ports  and  impregnable  bulwarks ;  the  seats  of  trade  and 
learning ;  on  the  sites  of  Roman  camps — roads  the  le- 

(275) 


276  MISCELLANIES. 

gions  made ;  where  some  generals  received  the  imperial 
purple;  and  some  centurions  were  buried;  and  some 
benefactors  born ;  where  Diets  were  held,  which  filled 
and  emptied  thrones,  and  changed  religious  creeds. 

There  are  volcanic  heaps  thrown  up  in  antediluvian 
times,  in  all  irregular  masses,  inclining  and  abrupt — 
abounding  in  useful  minerals  and  medicinal  waters,  and 
pierced  by  ravines,  through  which  rush  tributary  streams. 

There  are  ancient  structures,  in  ruins  or  restored  ; 
castles  with  towers,  polygonal  and  round,  crushed  or 
crumbling,  black  with  the  marks  of  sieges  and  the 
mold  of  years. 

There,  robber  chiefs  defied  the  Burghers  ;  warrior 
Bishops  levied  tolls  ;  Electors  applied  the  torture  ;  the 
Kaisers  had  a  palace  ;  Dwarfs  made  mirth ;  Troubadors 
made  music ;  and  captive  Kings  were  held  in  prison  ; 
and  gallant  Knights  went  forth  in  armour,  against  in 
fidels  and  monsters,  in  the  cause  of  beauty  and  the 
Cross,  to  rescue  women  and  Jerusalem. 

There,  are  the  white  cloistered  fronts  of  Convents, 
built  for  monks  or  maids  ;  to  which  distinguished  Re 
formers,  or  high  born  ladies,  fled  from  shame  or  danger ; 
and  which  are  now  often  used  as  magazines,  or  hospit 
als,  for  invalids  or  wines. 

There,  are  chapels  of  all  styles — tall  Italian  towers  ; 
old  Saxon  arches ;  grand  Gothic  choirs ;  steeples  shaped 
like  bells,  or  spears,  or  pears,  built  of  trachyte,  bricks 
and  sandstone. 

There,  martyrs  suffered ;  miracles  were  witnessed  ; 
pilgrims  traveled  ;  Templars  worshiped  ;  emperors  were 
crowned. 


THE    RHINE.  277 

There,  is  a  monastery,  ruined  by  a  law  suit ;  one  fill 
ed  with  virgin's  bones  ;  and  one  holds  the  body  of  an 
envied  ministrel,  borne  thither  by  fair  damsels,  whose 
hearts  his  songs  had  won. 

On  the  sunny  sides  and  summits,  amongst  cliffs  and 
crevices,  on  artificial  terraces,  covered  with  made  soil, 
stuck  like  peas,  hang  the  vineyards  of  the  Rheingau 
— the  Bacchanalian  gardens — the  source  of  those 
voluptuous  liquors,  which  inspire  more  than  love  or 
landscapes. 

There,  are  the  places  to  which  tradition  has  assigned 
facts  and  fables — where  dragons  were  slain,  and  unseen 
spirits  wander ;  houses  which  they  say  the  devil  curi 
ously  built ;  and  fearful  ladders,  which  he  dug  in  the 
stone,  to  climb  the  precipice  ;  the  Seven  Rocks,  once 
seven  cruel  sisters,  who  would  not  wed,  and  whose  bod 
ies  became  as  stony  as  their  hearts;  where  perished  the 
Baron's  daughter,,  like  Jeptha's,  the  victim  of  a  vow  ; 
where  the  Brothers  slew  each  other,  made  foes  and  lov 
ers  by  one  woman's  smile ;  where  the  Royal  hermit 
wasted  hours  and  hopes,  watching  the  windows  of  his 
monastic  mistress ;  where  the  treacherous  nymph,  with 
the  Syren's  echo,  allured  the  sailors  to  the  whirlpool 
and  the  rocks ;  where  the  vermin  devoured  the  wicked 
Priest,  who  betrayed  the  poor  ;  where  Constantine  be 
held  the  cheering  vision  of  the  Cross  in  heaven  ;  and 
where  Caesar  traversed  the  river  on  his  ingenious 
bridge,  against  the  fair-haired  Germans. 

Then,  there  are  little  vallies,  with  villages  surround 
ed  by  crazy  ramparts,  equally  dangerous  to  friend  and 
foe ;  and  quaint  old  gateways,  with  loopholes  for  the 
arrows,  and  the  warders ;  and  odd  shaped  houses  built 

24 


278  MISCELLANIES. 

of  brick,  in  wooden  frames,  whose  opposite  stories  pro 
ject  till  they  almost  meet,  making  the  streets  resemble 
tunnels. 

In  these  close  towns,  and  not  in  solitary  cottages,  the 
peasants  live,  for  safety  and  from  custom.  They  possess 
small  tracts  of  land,  often  mortgaged  to  every  grain  of 
dust  and  blade  of  corn ;  which  yet  makes  them  freer 
than  their  ancestors,  who  rather  belonged  to  the  soil, 
than  owned  it. 

The  young  girls,  called  madchens,  with  red  round 
cheeks,  and  parrot  toes,  and  sky  blue  eyes  and  stock 
ings,  were  toiling  amongst  the  vines  ;  or  on  the  way  to 
market,  or  to  mass  ;  with  baskets,  or  white  muslin  or 
silver  caps  upon  their  head  ;  and  silver  daggers  in  their 
hair. 

And  thus,  as  we  passed  along  this  famous  stream,  by 
puffing  steamboats,  and  through  floating  bridges,  these 
various  objects,  by  the  way,  recalled  the  dramatic  scenes 
of  history. 

We  beheld  in  fancy,  Druids  and  Augurs  encouraging 
hostile  nations — Battles  waged  with  javelins  and  arrows 
— The  triumphant  progress  of  disciplined  invaders — 
The  avenging  victories  of  Barbarian  hordes — The  donw- 
fal  of  a  colossal  empire — The  fanatical  march  of  the 
Crusades — the  romantic  incidents  of  Chivalry — The  sub 
tle  discussions  of  the  Schoolmen — Guttemberg  exhibit 
ing  his  wooden  types — Luther  before  the  Imperial  diet 
— The  expiring  struggle  of  Feudalism — And,  at  last, 
the  blooming  glories  of  the  new  civilization  burst  upon 
the  sense. 


THE    RHINE.  279 

So,  in  the  storied  waters  of  the  Rhine,  one  may  read, 
as  in  some  magic  stereoscope,  the  great  successive  steps 
of  human  progress. 


"PARLA." 

Donatella  to  the  Statue. 

A  distinguished  public  officer,  and  a  few  of  his 
friends,  wished  Col.  J.,  while  on  his  Northern  tour,  to 
visit  their  Borough. 

The  officer  and  a  large  suite  accompanied  the  Col.  to 
the  town  of  N.,  where  the  former  had  requested  Mr.  M., 
then  a  student,  to  meet  them. 

M.'s  mission  was  not  clearly  defined. 

However,  on  the  appointed  day,  a  two-horse  coach 
and  driver  were  ready  for  him ;  and  as  the  autumn  sun 
glistened  on  the  white  frost  and  the  crimson  forest — 
and  the  robins  were  circling  round,  preparatory  to  their 
annual  flight — and  the  fox  hounds  were  filling  the  land 
with  their  exciting  cry — he  was  driven  rapidly  towards 
his  destination. 

Along  the  route,  he  speculated  about  the  character 
of  his  office.  He  was  not  going  for  the  mere  purpose 
of  taking  the  vehicle  across  the  country,  for  that  the 
driver  could  have  done  without  him.  He  was  not  a 
messenger,  for  he  carried  nothing.  He  was  not  a  com 
mittee,  for  he  represented  no  assembly,'  public  or  pri 
vate.  He  was  not  a  delegate,  for  he  had  no  instruc 
tions,  expressed  or  implied.  He  concluded,  therefore, 
that  he  was  only  a  favored  guest. 

(280) 


A   MAIDEN   SPEECH.  281 

In  a  few  hours,  the  wheels  rested  before  the  desig 
nated  Inn.  It  was  crowded  by  a  variety  of  people — 
irrepressible  boys — irresponsible  men — votaries  of  wine 
and  war,  a  few  of  whom  seemed  affectedly  polite  and 
mirthful ;  while  the  smoke  and  spittle  of  tobacco,  the 
vapors  of  grog  and  powder,  the  flash  of  swords  and 
glasses,  and  the  noise  of  kettle  drums,  cannon  and 
huzzahs,  gave  an  anniversary  aspect  to  the  scene. 

"  Here  he  comes,"  said  several  voices  as  the  coach 
door  opened.  "Here  he  comes"  was  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  through  the  bar-room,  up  stairs,  and 
down  into  the  kitchen,  and  echoed  back  again,  followed 
by  a  rush  of  people  towards  the  new  arrival,  as,  in  a 
long,  black  cloak,  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  porch. 

The  officer,  referred  to,  welcomed  him  with  both  hands. 
At  his  military  voice  the  living  sea,  of  soldiers  and 
loafers,  parted  before  the  advancing  procession  of  two 
persons  abreast. 

Having  crossed  the  threshold,  the  officer  spirited  him 
behind  a  door.  In  a  low  tone  he  told  him  that  he  must 
rest  a  few  minutes,  and  afterwards  make  a  short  speech 
to  the  Col.  Then,  as  he  hurried  away,  he  warned  him 
with  an  impressive  motion  of  his  finger,  not  to  be  agi 
tated  ! 

In  spite  of  this  concluding  advice,  and  strenuous 
efforts  to  comply  with  it,  M.  was  rather  nervous.  The 
time  to  be  "  wise  and  amazed,"  to  be  composed  and  in 
spired,  seemed  inadequate  for  the  purpose.  f 

The  circumstances  were  sudden,  the  occasion  novel, 
the  audience  large,  and  the  opportunity  for  making  a 
debut,  so  fair,  that  he  was  bewildered  by  conflicting  im 
pulses.  He  was  unprovided  with  those  general  topics 


282  MISCELLANIES. 

which  the  old  rhetoricians  advised  for  emergencies ; 
and  he  was  ignorant  of  that  artificial  stimulant  which 
a  subsequent  authority  recommended  for  the  dumb.  A 
rabble  of  thoughts  in  all  disorderly  associations  passed 
through  his  mind. 

His  laboring  imagination  at  last  took  a  homeward 
flight.  His  subject  loomed  up  in  fair  proportions. 
His  ideas  began  to  take  shape  and  color.  He  beheld 
afar  the  ancient  Borough  arrayed  in  unusual  attrac 
tions.  It  seemed  like  a  town  of  temples  and  trees,  of 
colonnades  and  domes,  of  spacious  ways  and  wander 
ing  walks — where  men  wooed  the  arts,  and  surveyed  the 
the  planets,  and  tried  the  earth  in  crucibles — where 
emblematic  colors,  stirring  music,  persuasive  tongues, 
and  women's  tears  sanctified  the  patriotic  aspirations 
of  the  living,  and  the  heroic  memories  of  the  dead. 

While  he  was  enjoying  this  pleasant  vision,  and 
dreaming  of  rare  applause  and  blushing  honors,  the 
officer  returned.  His  growing  confidence  began  to 
abate  on  his  being  immediately  urged  into  a  thronged 
room.  At  one  end  of  it,  in  a  dazzling  red  vest,  sur 
rounded  by  men  with  swords  and  feathers,  stood  the 
venerable  dignitary  he  was  expected  to  address. 

But  the  Col.'s  presence  was  not  imposing.  His 
figure  was  what  is  called  square  ;  and  his  features, 
without  being  unpleasant,  were  rugged  and  care  worn. 

As  M.  approached  him,  he  raised  his  open  hand,  as 
if  about  .to  salute,  or  embrace  him,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  said  to  the  officer:  "Ah!  this  is  the  young 
gentleman  of  whom  you  spoke  so  kindly." 

This  was  an  embarrassing  compliment ;  as  it  seemed 
to  make  it  doubtful  whether  the  Col.  anticipated  any- 


A   MAIDEN   SPEECH.  283 

thing  but  an  introduction.  It  induced  M.  to  advance 
too  near  for  a  speech,  and  yet  not  close  enough  to  shake 
hands. 

A  pause  ensued — as  painful  as  the  lover's  before  he 
proposes;  as  the  duellist's  before  he  fires;  as  the  cul 
prit's  before  he  swings. 

The  drums  ceased — the  guns  were  silent — the  cheers 
were  withheld — the  audience,  after  the  usual  prepa 
ratory  buzz,  became  still — they  listened — they  looked. 
Yet  they  did  not  manifest  the  pious  composure  of  a  con 
gregation  ;  nor  the  restless  anxiety  of  a  stump  meeting  ; 
nor  the  stoic  indifference  of  a  jury. 

But  they  showed  an  earnest,  patient  curiosity,  as  if 
they  yearned  to  hear,  and  expected  to  be  pleased — "  as 
if  they  supposed  that  all  speakers  commenced  with  dif 
ficulty — as  if  the  hesitation  only  increased  their  confi 
dence  in  his  powers — as  if  they  imputed  it  to  the  fervor 
of  his  emotions,  or  the  affluence  of  his  thoughts — as  if 
they  were  whispering — "  Look  !  he  is  winding  up  the 
watch  of  his  wit,  by  and  by  it  will  strike  !" 

As  the  delay  was  prolonged,  some  raised  themselves 
on  chairs,  to  overlook  those  in  front.  Some  put  their 
hands  to  their  ears,  lest  a  syllable  should  escape. 
Some  unconsciously  opened  their  mouths,  as  if  they 
would  inhale  the  articulate  breath. 

Thus  they  waited  with  all  the  senses  vigilant.  But 
still  no  accents  fell,  no  periods  flowed. 

The  unfortunate  proximity  of  the  student  to  the  Col.; 
the  marked  attention;  the  universal  gaze  dismayed 
him.  He  distrusted  his  ability  to  satisfy  the  expecta 
tion.  He  feared  to  take  the  responsibility  of  disap 
pointing  it.  His  mind  vacillated.  His  thoughts  wan- 


284  MISCELLANIES. 

dered.  His  visions  faded.  Forsaken  of  all  the  inspi 
rations  ;  abandoned  by  every  extempore  god — he  for 
got  his  subject — forgot  his  errand — lost  his  conscious 
ness — lost  his  Aroice — his  own  breath  seemed  to  choke 
him — he  could  not  utter  a  word — he  could  not  open 
his  lips — his  eyes  drooped — his  feet  shuffled — his  hands 
twitched — he  was  eloquent  only  with  pallor  and  per 
spiration — he  was  oratorical  only  in  his  tremor — he 
represented  nothing  so  well  as  silence. 

Before  he  could  recover,  the  officer  alluded  to,  restive 
and  despairing,  adroitly  assumed  his  place,  and  per 
formed  his  task.  And  while  some  smiled,  and  some 
wondered  at  the  failure — a  few  naively  called  it  a 
maiden  speech ! 


LOUIS  NAPOLEON. 

Passing  one  day  an  entrance  of  the  Palais  de  1'Elysee, 
the  gates  suddenly  flew  open,  the  two  sentinels  present 
ed  arms,  a  few  people  waiting  there,  fell  back,  and 
Louis  Napoleon,  the  President  of  France,  with  an  Aid 
by  his  side,  and  two  liveried  servants  behind,  drove 
through,  in  a  light  open  wagon.  He  then  halted  for  a 
moment  to  receive  the  numerous  petitions  which  were 
offered  to  him.  I  saw  him  afterwards,  as  he  got  out 
of  a  plain  carriage  and  went  up  to  the  American  read 
ing  room,  on  the  Boulevard.  And  again,  on  horsback, 
with  a  star  on  his  breast,  wearing  a  frock  coat  and 
cocked  hat,  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  group  of  officers 
of  various  nations,  going  to  the  Champ  de  Mars,  to 
review  the  sham  fight  of  twenty  thousand  soldiers  on  a 
side,  arranged  to  honor  the  visit  of  the  Lord  Mayor 
and  Aldermen  of  London. 

He  was  rather  below  the  ordinary  height;  his  nose 
prominent;  his  eyelashes  long;  his  glance  steady,  but 
downward,  like  the  first  Napoleon's ;  his  moustache 
heavy  and  dark,  shading  his  mouth.  His  face  was  im 
pressive — calm,  passionless,  thoughtful  and  inscruta 
ble  ;  neither  repelling  by  pride,  nor  attracting  by  sym 
pathy;  betokening  a  genius  not  to  be  seduced  or  daunted, 
but  leaving  it  in  doubt  whether  his  instincts  were  good 
or  evil. 

(285) 


286  MISCELLANIES. 

His  career  shows  how  persistently  he  pursued  a  great 
object — how  implicitly  he  relied  upon  his  fortune.  His 
birth  in  a  palace — celebrated  by  the  peal  of  cannon — 
his  childhood  associated  with  historical  spectacles — 
bearing  a  name  synonomous  with  military  glory — in 
heriting  pretensions  favored  by  popular  affection  and 
tradition,  his  chief  ideas  and  emotions  were  of  crowns 
and  armies. 

Disappointment  only  instructed  his  ambition.  The 
bitter  ridicule,  the  personal  perils  and  hardships  with 
which  inopportune  efforts  oppressed  him,  gave  him  pa 
tience  and  discretion.  In  all  circumstances,  as  a  stu 
dent  or  adventurer,  as  soldier  or  constable,  in  sympathy 
with  the  aristocracies  or  the  masses,  amongst  the  Car 
bonari  of  Italy  or  against  the  Chartists  in  London,  an 
exile  in  America,  a  citizen  in  the  free  canton  of  Thur- 
gau,  capitally  arraigned  before  the  tribunal  of  France, 
suffering  the  penal  solitude  of  the  dungeon  of  Ham, 
persecuted,  punished,  or  feasted,  he  never  doubted  or 
despaired  of  his  imperial  destiny. 

It  was  his  study,  his  dream,  his  faith.  It  filled  his 
imagination  and  sustained  his  spirit.  It  inspired  the 
ingenious  books  which  he  wrote,  the  eloquent  speeches 
which  he  delivered,  his  reticent  deportment  which 
baffled  speculation,  and  made  him  a  hero  even  to  his 
familiars.  It  caused  him  to  be  indifferent  to  danger, 
and  forbearing  of  provocation.  It  gave  him  that  equa 
nimity  which  neither  the  grenade  of  the  assassin,  the 
fire  of  battle,  the  flattery  of  parasites,  nor  the  scorn 
or  applause  of  multitudes  could  move.  It  accounts  for 
his  rashness  and  his  prudence,  his  inconsistencies  and 
his  success. 


LOUIS   NAPOLEON.  287 

If  he  was  moderate  or  audacious — if  he  complained 
of  suspicions  or  verified  them — if  he  lauded  free  insti 
tutions  in  his  progress  through  the  provinces,  and 
silenced  the  press  and  the  tribune —  if  he  arrested  gen 
erals,  and  employed  the  army  against  the  barricades  of 
St.  Antoine — if  he  dissolved  the  National  Assembly, 
and  appealed  to  universal  suffrage,  it  was  under  the 
impulse  of  that  feeling  which,  he  said,  made  power 
essential  to  his  existence. 

Having  attained  the  throne,  he  sought  at  once  to 
justify  his  mission.  He  gave  a  spur  to  civil  enterprise 
• — infused  energy  into  every  branch  of  industry — offer 
ed  prizes  to  ingenuity  in  the  arts  and  sciences — covered 
the  land  with  railways  and  machines — opened  magnifi 
cent  avenues  through  the  cities — relaxed  the  rigor  of 
restraining  laws — distributed  his  purse  amongst  the 
the  sufferers  from  inundations — invoked  popular  patri 
otism  to  sustain  his  treasury  by  voluntary  loans — im 
proved  the  efficiency  of  his  artillery  and  ships  with 
new  weapons  and  new  armor — perfected  harbors  and 
bulwarks  on  the  coast — won  laurels  and  territory  in  his 
campaigns — and  established  a  personal  prestige  and 
influence  rivaling  his  uncle's,  greater  than  any  living 
ruler's. 

His  conduct  has  become  a  constant  subject  of  discus 
sion  and  apprehension.  A  journey  across  the  channel, 
a  letter  to  an  aid-de-camp,  a  sentence  in  the  Moniteur 
a  quasi  official  pamphlet,  or  an  abrupt  remark  to  an 
ambassador — and  the  stocks  depreciate  in  the  market, 
and  the  din  of  hostile  preparation  echoes  over  the  Con 
tinent. 


288  MISCELLANIES. 

England,  hitherto  the  haughtiest  enemy  of  his  house, 
does  not  move  without  his  concurrence.  Russia,  with 
all  her  gigantic  strength,  still  endeavors  to  avoid  giving 
him  offence.  Germany  beholds  in  him  a  continual 
menace.  Italy  would  fain  hail  him  as  a  deliverer. 
The  Pope  leans  reluctantly  on  his  support.  The  Sul 
tan  gladly  dispenses  with  his  aid  in  Syria.  Spain 
humbly  plays  the  role  he  assigns  her.  Mexico  abhors, 
but  unaided,  may  not  decline  his  Grecian  present  of  a 
king.  The  American  Republic,  in  her  trials,  impa 
tiently  endures  his  marked  disregard  of  her  traditional 
jealousy  of  European  interference  on  the  western  con 
tinent.  All  recognize  his  importance — none  compre 
hend  the  breadth  of  his  designs. 

Powerful  in  resources,  cautious  in  his  means,  abiding 
his  time,  keeping  his  counsels,  a  fatalist  in  feeling,  pro 
found  in  policy,  systematic  in  combination,  resolute 
and  rapid  in  execution — he  appears  the  most  imposing 
figure  of  the  age.  And  as  he  stands,  in  his  mysterious 
attitude,  on  the  borders  of  a  transitionary  civilization, 
affecting,  it  is  said,  some  of  the  symbols  of  the  ancient 
Caesars,  imbued  with  the  Napoleonic  notion  of  the  con 
federacy  of  nations,  and  the  consolidation  of  crowns — 
one  is  disposed  to  believe  that  his  full  proportions  are 
not  yet  developed — that  he  has  not  yet  reached  his  his 
torical  maturity — that  he  may  yet  be  a  signal  actor  in 
the  great  apocalyptic  drama  of  the  world. 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE  IN  LONDON. 

The  press,  the  criers,  the  people,  wending  their  way 
towards  Hyde  Park,  gave  notice  of  the  last  week  of 
the  great  exhibition. 

The  edifice  was  wonderful  ! — so  rare,  so  light,  so 
strong,  so  large,  so  brilliant  in  its  contents,  so  sudden 
in  its  rise,  so  soon  to  vanish! 

Men  had  read  of  nothing  like  it  in  prose,  or  verse. 
It  was  all  of  glass  or  iron — columns,  balusters,  walls 
and  roof.  It  covered  eighteen  acres  of  land  ;  and  old 
forest  trees  waved  their  green  tops  beneath  its  transpa 
rent  arches.  It  stood  unshaken  by  the  fury  of  summer 
storms,  and  the  undulating  weight  of  moving  masser. 
Individual  genius,  royal  influence,  and  national  enter 
prise  had  furnished  it  with  all  the  curiosities  they  could 
discover  or  contrive.  A  year  before,  children  had 
gathered  violets  on  its  unbroken  sward ;  and  a  year 
thereafter,  they  played  on  the  vacant  spot,  where  it 
had  held  a  world  in  minature. 

On  the  day  before  its  final  close,  one  hundred  and 
twelve  thousand  souls,  from  all  regions,  spread  along 
its  aisles,  transepts  and  galleries.  No  disorder,  no 
ribaldry,  no  petulance  occurred.  Good  humor  and 
good  will  prevailed.  But  an  incident  disturbed,  for  a 

while,  the  monotonous  calm. 

(289)  25 


290  MISCELLANIES. 

Several  policemen  were  observed  surrounding  a  per 
son.  Others  hurried  towards  them,  to  ascertain  the 
cause.  The  mass  increased,  and  became  impenetrable. 
The  cry  of  "pickpocket"  was  raised  and  repeated. 
It  aggravated  the  excitement.  Hundreds,  actuated 
by  the  common  curiosity  to  see  shame  or  crime,  pushed 
forward. 

The  thousand  usual  incoherent  questions  and  answers 
were  passed.  The  arrest  became  the  temporary  topic 
of  conversation.  The  police  were  praised  for  their 
dexterity,  their  usefulness,  their  importance.  The 
English  felt  proud  of  this  very  public  example  of  their 
vigilance. 

Some  related  how  the  thief  was  caught.  That  he 
was  an  old  convict — the  officers  knew  him — saw  him 
enter — one  of  them,  in  plain  clothes,  watched  him — 
lounged  carelessly  in  his  way,  tempted,  and  entrapped 
him.  Every  body  was  gratified  at  the  result,  for  every 
body  rejoices  at  retribution. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  space  was  cleared  in  front  of 
the  individual  who  was  the  object  of  these  remarks. 
He  was  an  old  man,  dressed  in  a  blue  tight  body  coat ; 
and  his  head  drooped  on  his  breast.  A  murmur  of 
surprise  instantly  broke  forth,  as  those  near  discovered 
that  the  police,  instead  of  restraining  an  offender,  were 
merely  protecting  from  the  pressure,  no  less  a  person 
than  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 

The  scene  became  somewhat  grand,  as  the  fact  was 
made  known ;  and  as  that  heroic  brow  bowed,  not  in 
confusion,  but  with  years  and  honors,  and  in  courteous 
recognition  of  the  cosmopolitan  applause  which  greeted 
him.  It  seemed  as  if  the  representatives  of  all  lands, 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE.  291 

and  the  huzzahs  of  all  languages  united,  to  pay  the 
personal  tribute  of  the  age  to  one  of  its  most  illustri 
ous  characters. 

On  the  next  day,  a  less,  but  more  select  crowd  enter 
ed  the  building,  to  take  a  farewell  view  of  an  exhibition, 
which  had  had  no  precedent ;  and  which  might  never 
be  repeated. 

Some  loitered  around  the  cornices,  the  capitals,  the 
the  statues,  the  pictures,  to  admire  how  art  had  caught, 
as  it  were,  the  formative  skill  of  nature,  and  forged  her 
loveliest  lines  and  richest  colors. 

Some  looked  over  those  personal  articles  of  dress 
and  toilet,  whose  materials  grow  on  the  back  of  brutes, 
and  on  the  breast  of  birds ;  which  the  worm  spins,  and 
the  flowers  distil ;  which  crystalize  in  the  mine,  and 
bloom  on  the  savannas. 

Some  examined  those  successful  arrangements  of 
mechanical  powers,  which  tend  to  diminish  physical 
labor ;  and  prepare  society  for  a  more  intellectual  de 
velopment. 

Some  glanced  at  those  fearful  instruments  of  destruc 
tion,  which  seemed  as  if  they  would  drive  Mars,  him 
self,  in  terror,  from  the  field. 

Some  stood  where  the  fountains  spouted,  through 
tubes,  and  over  urns,  of  glass,  to  enjoy  their  refresh 
ing  spray,  their  murmuring  fall,  their  changing  tints. 

Some  gathered  near  the  flowers,  to  behold  the  curi 
ous  growth  of  that  royal  leaf,  which  inspired  the  archi 
tectural  design  of  the  great  structure  itself. 

Some  were  entertained  by  the  diversity  of  languages 
— by  the  softness  of  those  of  classic  origin;  by  the 


292  MISCELLANIES. 

sonorous  Teutonic  accents ;  by  the  guttural  sounds  of 
Orientals. 

Some  amused  themselves  with  noting  the  numerous 
costumes — the  flowing  robes,  the  pointed  caps,  the 
plaited  kilts,  the  lace,  and  tinsel. 

Some  studied  the  facial  angles,  the  formal  beards,  the 
figures,  and  the  manner  of  different  races. 

Some  listened  with  delight  to  the  gentle  tones  of 
musical  instruments,  as  now  and  then,  a  cunning  hand 
swept  their  harmonious  chords. 

Some  admired  the  contrasted  styles  of  living  beauty 
— the  blushing  fulness  of  Rubens — the  delicate  grace 
of  Correggio — the  fascinating  sadness  of  Guido — the 
passionate  brightness  of  Titian — the  heavenly  inno 
cence  of  Raphael. 

Some  passed  along  chatting  of  business  or  of  news, 
seemingly  unconscious  of  the  vast  show  they  had  come 
to  visit. 

Some  resting  on  the  sofas,  which  were  here  and  there 
distributed,  regarded  the  spectacle  as  significant  of  the 
approaching  fraternization  of  sects  and  tribes — as  the 
emblem  of  that  promised  period  in  which  guilt  and 
pain  shall  flee  away,  and  peace  assumes  her  universal 
crown — 

«  Ac  toto  surget  gens  aurea  mundo !" 

• 

But  as  the  appointed  hour  drew  nigh,  other  consid 
erations  yielded  to  the  interest  of  the  closing  scene. 
The  swaying  heads,  the  tramping  feet,  the  busy  conver 
sation  ceased.  Every  eye  was  directed  towards  the 
transept  galleries.  The  four  corners  were  filled  with 
choristers.  Musicians  were  posted  near  with  their 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE.  293 

instruments.  The  vast  assembly  stood  up.  The  men 
took  off  their  hats.  The  eager  faces  and  subdued 
breathing,  showed  deep  emotion.  Then  burst  forth  that 
noblest  psalm  of  praise.  A  hundred  singers  led ;  a 
score  of  organs  accompanied  ;  forty  thousand  voices 
swelled  the  chorus.  The  mighty  concert  pealed  along 
the  crystal  walls — resounded  above  the  clangor  of  the 
city — the  heavens,  till  then  overcast,  as  if  in  sympathy, 
began  to  clear — the  slanting  sun-beams  flashed  far  and 
high  upon  the  breaking  clouds — and  the  soaring  splen 
dors  of  the  bow  of  peace  responded  to  the  doxology  of 
nations. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH, 

How  charmingly  Goldsmith  wrote !  whether  of  fact 
or  of  fiction,  in  poetry  or  prose  !  Whether  he  described 
a  planet  or  a  people,  the  peculiarities  of  genius,  or  the 
habits  of  a  brute,  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  or  the  features 
of  a  landscape ! 

He  gathered  contributions  from  science,  and  gave 
new  interest  to  the  phenomena  of  nature.  He  threw 
an  attractive  light  down  the  fading  aisles  of  the  past, 
and  over  the  wrecks  of  systems,  customs  and  creeds. 
Delighted  we  climb  with  him  the  highest  Alps,  and  see 
amongst  the  hundred  realms  below  how  appropriately 
all  places  and  all  people  have  been  blessed.  We  wander 
with  him  over  the  desolate  site  of  lovliest  Auburn,  to 
behold  how  the  aristocracies  of  rank  and  fortune  ab 
sorbed  the  privileges,  and  invaded  the  happiness  of  the 
poor ;  or  around  the  shrubbery  of  the  Vicar's  cottage, 
to  mark  how  constant  virtue  triumphs  over  adventitious 
ills ;  or  through  the  great  city,  to  enjoy  the  diversions 
of  the  drama,  the  streets,  or  the  club. 

His  compositions  are  remarkable  for  purity  of  lan 
guage,  and  apposite  imagery,  for  ingenious  reflections, 
soothing  pathos,  and  unfailing  humor.  He  has  nothing 
obscure,  affected,  puerile  or  pernicious ;  yet  he  has  both 
energy,  and  ornament.  There  is  a  tenderness  in  the 
melody  of  his  verse ;  a  pleasing  cadence  in  his  prose ; 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH.  295 

a  sort  of  fascination  in  his  descriptions ;  a  fine  philoso 
phy  in  his  sentiments.  A  spirit  of  benevolence  chastens 
his  style,  warms  his  praise,  softens  his  censure,  and 
sheds  a  glow  of  moral  beauty  over  all  his  productions. 

His  imagination,  gay  rather  than  brilliant,  represents 
the  humbler  walks  of  society,  familiar  scenes,  and  sen 
sible  objects ;  employs  no  ideal  agencies,  and  appeals 
to  the  gentler  emotions. 

His  fictions  are  crowded  with  agreeable  pictures  and 
lessons.  Extravagant  incidents  and  characters  are 
almost  overshadowed  by  the  propriety  of  other  parts, 
or  half  redeemed  by  some  special  merit  of  their  own. 
We  enjoy  the  marvelous  delusions  in  one  piece — we 
sympathise  with  the  wholesale  misery  in  another — nor 
are  we  displeased  by  the  rare  instances  of  improbable 
disguises,  incompatible  duties,  and  unaccountable  mo 
tives.  They  occasion  the  introduction  of  an  elegant 
metaphor,  a  fine  period,  or  a  facetious  point ;  or  exhibit 
an  amiable  passion ;  or  impress  a  wholesome  truth. 
And  while  most  of  his  men  and  women  are  fairly  drawn, 
a  favorable  feature  pervades  the  worst.  His  knaves,  not 
always  incorrigible,  are  apt  to  repent,  or  be  useful ;  and 
his  dupes,  hardly  ever  desperate,  affect  us  by  their  in 
nocence  :  the  first  may  excite  our  compassion — the  lat 
ter  elicit  our  fondness. 

His  humor  is  conspicuous  in  recounting  mistakes,  and 
social  offences.  He  finds  in  defeated  vanity,  in  un 
founded  pretensions,  in  confiding  ignorance,  in  whimsi 
cal  acts,  and  absurd  fashions,  those  harmless  incongrui 
ties  which  surprise  us  into  mirth. 

Hence  his  ridicule  though  keen,  is  not  of  the  bitter 
sort;  his  shafts  are  pointed  but  not  poisoned.  He 


296  MISCELLANIES. 

rarely  plays  upon  words,  or  violates  the  canons  of  good 
taste.  He  is  therefore  not  a  punster  like  Hook  ;  nor 
cynical  like  Swift ;  nor  indelicate  like  Rabelais ;  nor 
profane  like  Voltaire.  Yet  he  sounds  with  skill  all  the 
strains  of  pleasantry.  Sometimes  with  the  gentlest 
touch  of  Lamb  ;  sometimes  with  the  graceful  ease  of  Ad- 
dison  ;  sometimes  with  the  bolder  strokes  of  Cervantes. 

How  ludicrous  appears  the  confusion  of  his  strolling, 
player,  when  the  callous  crowd  reflect  the  disdainful 
silence  of  the  London  critic  ;  and  the  dismay  of  the 
fond  mother,  when  the  overrated  Moses  unpacks  his 
illusive  bargains  ;  and  the  family  procession,  with  their 
unwilling  steeds  and  unwitnessed  finery,  too  tardy  for 
parade  or  prayers ;  and  the  artful  Jenkins,  with  his 
charitable  face,  beguiling  the  "glorious  pillar  of  un 
shaken  orthodoxy"  of  his  wall  eyed  horse. 

How  well  he  entertains  us  with  the  story  of  the  veni 
son,  with  the  masterly  analysis  of  his  literary  friends, 
with  the  unthinking  generosity  of  Honeywood;  the 
overreaching  cleverness  of  Constance  ;  the  mischievous 
ignorance  of  Tony;  the  abounding  hospitality  of 
Hardcastle ;  the  unconscious  impudence  of  Marlow  ; 
the  racy  gossip  of  Dame  Quickly 's  ghost ;  the  foppish 
swagger  of  Beau  Tibbs. 

And  he  constantly  pours  forth  a  felicitous  current  of 
droll  expressions  and  ideas,  which  move  the  cheerful 
feelings,  relax  the  muscles,  make  the  eyes  twinkle, 
wreathe  the  face  with  smiles,  or  shake  the  sides  with 
laughter. 

Contrasted  with  this  sportive  manner,  is  the  plaintive 
beauty  of  his  numbers,  His  flowing  recital  of  the 
wrongs  of  pride,  and  pains  of  love,  of  vanished  figures, 


OLIVER    GOLDSMITH.  297 

sports,  and  years — his  visions  of  the  silent  haunts  of 
buoyant  youth,  of  the  vacant  seats  of  hoary  age,  of 
landscapes  dotted  with  ruins  and  with  graves,  inspire 
the  mind  with  that  tender  melancholy,  which  subdues 
but  does  not  darken  it — which  interests  the  virtues,  im- 
improves  the  life,  and  shows  that 

"Our  sweetest  songs  aie  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought." 

If  we  turn  from  the  author  to  the  man,  we  find  a 
character  made  up  of  curious  whims,  transient  vices, 
and  prominent  traits  of  excellence.  Every  page  in 
his  biography  is  marked  by  some  strange  predicament 
in  which  his  caprice  or  folly  placed  him. 

That  he  was  the  son  of  a  preacher,  and  born  in  Ire 
land,  and  died  a  bachelor,  will  account  in  the  estima 
tion  of  a  few,  for  most  of  his  oddities,  his  wit,  his 
blunders,  and  for  his  leaving  behind  him  a  debt  of 
several  thousand  pounds. 

Occasionally,  his  simplicity  might  remind  us  of  the 
pedagogue  in  Hierocles  ;  and  his  poverty,  of  the  ghost 
in  Lucian,  whose  want  of  an  obolus  astonished  Charon. 
His  eccentricities  commenced  in  his  youth,  and  clung 
to  him  through  life. 

He  secretly  left  college,  paid  his  passage  to  America, 
and  forgot  to  go  aboard  the  vessel.  He  started  for 
London  to  study  law,  and  gambled  away,  in  Dublin,  his 
funds  for  the  journey.  He  went  to  Edinburg  to  attend 
the  medical  lectures,  and  soon  lost  the  place  in  which 
he  had  taken  lodgings.  He  set  out  for  Leyden,  and 
sailed  for  Bordeaux.  He  borrowed  money  to  travel, 
and  spent  it  on  tulip  roots.  He  began  his  continental 
tour  with  one  penny  and  one  shirt.  He  wrote  letters 


298  MISCELLANIES. 

without  dates  ;  mistook  a  footman  for  a  nobleman  ;  a 
bailiff  for  a  steward  ;  an  inn  for  a  dwelling  ;  and  intend 
ing  to  compliment  a  lord,  uttered  a  sarcasm.  He  was 
more  than  once  arrested  for  debt,  and  once  imprisoned  in 
mistake  for  an  agent  of  France.  He  often  procured 
his  dinner  by  arguing  a  thesis  before  an  university  ;  and 
his  bed,  by  playing  a  flute  before  a  cottage.  At  times 
he  was  an  usher,  at  times  a  chemist,  at  times  a  phy 
sician,  at  last  an  author. 

Though  improvident  and  careless,  he  was  vain  of  his 
own  powers,  and  envious  of  the  success  of  others.  It 
vexed  him  that  the  King  had  conversed  with  Johnson  ; 
that  people  applauded  puppets  in  his  presence ;  and 
admired  his  lady  companions  more  than  himself.  He 
renounced  the  friendship  of  Kelly,  because  he  was  the 
author  of  a  play  more  popular  than  his  own.  He  as 
saulted  Evans,  the  printer,  for  his  published  strictures. 

Though  his  figure  was  ungainly,  and  his  face  pitted 
with  small  pox,  he  dressed  himself  in  gay  colors,  and 
ambitiously  paraded  in  the  Temple  gardens.  Though 
he  was  a  poor  talker,  he  attempted  to  shine  in  conver 
sation.  Though  he  was  confused  in  the  company  of 
men  of  rank,  he  boasted  of  his  interview  with  the  Earl 
of  Northumberland ;  and  complained  of  the  cold  salu 
tation  of  Lord  Camden.  He  was  unduly  mortified  at 
the  moderate  success  of  one  of  his  comedies  ;  and  un 
duly  elevated  by  the  triumph  of  another. 

These  foibles  were,  however,  not  strong  enough  to 
enfeeble  his  mind,  or  infect  his  heart.  They  were  but 
temporary  in  their  influence,  and  his  judgment  con 
demned,  and  his  candor  confessed  them.  His  merits 
predominated.  He  was  found  of  children ;  he  would 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH.  299 

give  his  last  penny  to  the  poor  ;  he  recommended  others 
for  favor  when  he  needed  it  himself ;  he  never  degrad 
ed  his  pen ;  he  never  put  his  conscience  in  the  market. 
He  had  many  qualities  which  rendered  him  fit  to 
confer  and  enjoy  social  good.  He  had  a  pliant,  cheer 
ful,  and  forgiving  temper.  His  manners  were  artless; 
his  sensibility  delicate  and  discriminating ;  hjs  observa 
tions  acute  and  extensive.  He  gathered  information 
from  all  sources  ;  found 

"  Sermons  in  stones, 
Books  in  the  running  brooks,  and  good  in  every  thing." 

Without  egotism  he  infused  his  own  experience  into 
his  writings  ;  and  amused  us  with  his  errors.  He  was 
himself  "The  Good  Natured  Man;"  the  Tutor,  in  his 
novel ;  "  The  Traveler,"  and  "  The  Man  in  Black." 

Like  his  own  description  of  Cumberland,  he  seemed 
as  if 

"  Vainly  directing  his  view 
To  find  out  men's  virtues,  and  finding  them  few, 
Quite  sick  cf  pursuing  each  troublesome  elf, 
He  grew  lazy  at  last,  and  drew  from  himself." 

His  mental  powers,  harmoniously  disposed,  were  em 
ployed  to  impart  knoAvledge,  to  refine  the  taste,  and 
improve  the  virtues  of  society.  "His  poetry,"  said 
Fox,  "  was  the  best  in  the  language  ;"  "  It  represented 
the  majesty  of  sensible  philosophy,"  said  Madame  de 
Stael ;  "He  was  a  great  man,"  said  Johnson;  "He 
did  all  things  happily,"  said  Coleridge. 

It  has  been  more  than  a  century  since  he  lived.  Of 
the  various  illustrious  names  which  enrich  the  history 
of  his  time — though  the  dominant  genius  of  Johnson 
shone  like  the  centre  of  an  intellectual  system — though 


300  MISCELLANIES. 

Burke  and  Fox  were  about  reviving  the  golden  age  of 
oratory — though  Gibbon  was  preparing  that  massive 
work,  whose  irreverent  irony  alone  impairs  its  splendor 
— though  Collins  was  singing  his  beautiful  ode  to  the 
passions — though  Young  was  showering  forth  his 
thoughts,  rich  as  pearls — though  Churchill  and  Ho 
garth  were  exciting  London  by  their  satirical  battles 
in  verse  and  pictures — though  Reynolds  was  shedding 
the  graces  of  scholarship  over  his  favorite  art — though 
Quin,  Foote,  and  Garrick,  night  after  night,  were 
moving  crowds  to  tears  and  merriment  by  the  exhibi 
tions  of  the  stage — though  Sir  Wm.  Jones  was  develop 
ing  those  treasures  of  oriental  learning  which  had  been 
so  long  hidden  from  the  European  world — yet  none  of 
them — however  gifted,  or  however  praised,  whatever 
his  influence,  or  his  labors — is  more  frequently,  or 
more  fondly  mentioned  than  Poor  Goldsmith. 


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E93*l6    Miscellanies 
1862 


PS 

165U 

E93A16 

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